The Devil Has Blue Eyes
by Aina Song
Summary: Quatre believes he is the lost heir to a wealthy winery. Heero is convinced the gyspsy is a fraud. Meanwhile, a dark presense stirs to finish what it started...
1. Chapter One

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter One**

Quatre could feel his mare's restlessness, even after the long trip across the mountain. But he held her back, wanting to study the castle as his leisure.

He was in the stand of hardwoods now, moving in and out of sunlight and shade. The castle was in a clearing, with a lush green lawn that spread around it like the flattering summer skirt of a grand and elegant lady.

The red brick of the structure had weathered to a pale coral, and dark green ivy covered portions of the walls, giving it an aged and mysterious appearance. It was three stories tall and must have been over one hundred feet across the front. The castle was dominated by a tower at one end which rose above the steep rooftops.

Coming through the grove of trees to the spacious lawn and surrounding evergreens of the castle gave one a definite feel of grandeur. The castle loomed silently, rising above Quatre as he rode nearer. Even the sound of the birds seemed stilled here.

He stopped for a moment and looked up at the steeply pitched roofs and structures atop it. There were crenellated battlements and dormer windows with pointed domes. His eyes moved downward to the loggias across the front of the castle. One with smaller arches was on the second floor, and another at ground level boasted large, curved archways.

Quatre pulled his mare Sandi close to the walkway at the ground-floor loggia and tied her reins to a nearby boxwood that rose to his height.

His heart was pounding as he walked into the cool shadows of the porch. He still had no idea how he would begin; he hoped that once he saw Treize Khushrenada the words would come - and, wishfully, that the man might recognize Quatre as his son.

He lifted the heavy brass ring and let it fall with loud thuds upon the carved oak door.

Only seconds later the large door swung upon and Quatre found himself staring into the eyes of a small, middle-aged man. He was not much taller than Quatre, and he was somewhat thin. Quatre thought he had the sharpest black eyes the blond had ever seen.

"May I help you, young sir?" He asked coolly. Then his obsidian gaze wandered down to take in Quatre's loose white shirt, brown corduroy trousers, and heavy work-worn boots. He frowned and looked up again, questioningly.

The man's look said it all: Quatre did not belong there.

"I've come to see Treize Khushrenada," Quatre said, wishing his voice did not sound quite so shaky.

"Mister Khushrenada is not receiving guests at the moment," the other man said with a bored lift of his eyebrows.

"I think he'll see me," he dared challenge, his voice a bit stronger.

"You're mistaken, young sir. He will not."

They regarded each other, and Quatre slowly realized that perhaps the other man was not as old as he had first appeared. The tired circles under those obsidian eyes gave the illusion of age, otherwise the man could very well have passed for a much younger man.

From behind him, past the dim, cool hallway, Quatre could hear the muted sounds of laughter, and he felt the anger rising within his chest. Not receiving guests, eh? Or too busy entertaining to be disturbed? Knowing he would not be able to muster up the courage to return a second time, Quatre returned his attention to the man that stood in his way. "What is your name, sir?"

"Chang Wufei," he said quietly. "Now, if that will be all…" He stepped back and began to close the heavy door.

But Quatre was much quicker and stepped into the hallway. He was struck at once by the delicious rich aroma of the wood paneling that surrounded them. "No, that will not be all," he snapped, angered anew by this man's rejection. "I came a great distance to see Mister Khushrenada, and I don't intend to leave until I do."

Before the dark-eyed man could move, Quatre stepped beyond him toward the room where he'd heard the sounds of voices. He walked boldly to the door and pushed it open, stepping into the room to surprise this man who obviously wasn't interested in finding his son.

But it was Quatre who received the surprise.

Treize Khushrenada was not in the room, nor had any man been, before Quatre's intrusion. Instead there were about a dozen women, dressed in a fine array of elegant gowns. Some sat in delicately carved chairs, their dresses spread flatteringly around them. Others stood, with dainty cups in hand, as they chatted and laughed. And all of them, one by one, turned to stare at Quatre, the wild-eyed intruder who stood facing them in muddy boots and servant's clothing.

One of them, a petite woman of perhaps forty, took a step toward him. He thought her glistening cinnamon hair, swept high atop her head, was lovely. She must have been quite beautiful as a girl, with her heart-shaped face and full lips. But now, as she looked at Quatre with consummate outrage, he found her quite intimidating for so tiny a person and not so attractive with the displeased scowl on her face.

"How _dare_ you barge in here this way? Who are you?"

Quatre heard the other man behind him, the one who had met him at the door. "My apologies, Lady," he said. "He asked to see Mister Khushrenada. I told him the Master was not available, but he insisted…"

"Well, I don't care what he insisted, Chang. Please show him out… this instant!"

"Yes, Lady," he muttered, taking Quatre by the arm.

Quatre could feel the color rush to his cheeks as the elegantly groomed women, silent now, continued to stare at him. In all his life he had never seen such sophisticated, beautifully gowned women. He hardly knew such creatures existed.

The dark-eyed man pulled him from the room and he followed, too stunned to protest. The cinnamon-haired woman stood in the doorway as if to make sure he left. Quatre stared back at her, wondering who she was.

As soon as the door closed, he pulled his arm free of the other man.

"You must leave now, young sir, before I…"

"I will not leave until I've seen Mister Khushrenada," Quatre reinstated, raising his voice.

"Then I shall be forced to put you out," he warned, stepping forward.

Quatre gave an involuntary cry and flinched away from the man. "No!" He shouted. "You have no right to-"

"Wufei!" A new male voice rang through the paneled hallway. "_What_ is going on down here? I could hear you shouting at the top of the stairs."

The dark-eyed man was visibly agitated with Quatre for causing so much trouble. He turned with a start, as did Quatre, toward the young man making his way down the curved stairway.

Quatre told himself it was only his anger which made him feel breathless. If Sandi had kicked him in the chest he could not have felt more winded. But the truth was that he'd never seen a man like the one who came toward them, and his mouth dropped open against his will.

He was a vision, an enigma, a devil…

And the handsomest man Quatre had ever seen in his young life.

His dark burgundy hair was short and wild, but just long enough to spill its ends over the back of his shirt collar. He was dressed completely in black, and that added to the corsair look of him. He wore no tie, but his shirt was opened casually at the neck, allowing a glimpse of coffee-colored skin. His chest was smooth and richly tanned, as though he spent a great deal of time outdoors.

Quatre glanced slowly up from the bared vee of skin and into the man's face. Brilliant blue eyes, darker than Quatre's own, seemed to nail him to the floor. They were amazingly potent as they looked down upon the two before him.

"Well?" He asked. Quatre wasn't certain he spoke to him or to Mister Chang.

"I'll take care of it right away, Mister Yuy," the servant muttered, taking Quatre once again by the arm.

Quatre continued to stare into the eyes of the man on the stairs. His lashes dropped as he ran his eyes over Quatre, from the top of his wildly disheveled blond hair to the tip of his mud-spattered boots.

"It's all right, Wufei," the man said, his look cool and emotionless. "Let the _warabe_ go around to the kitchen. If he's looking for a meal…"

Quatre jerked his arm away from Mister Chang. "If you think I'm looking for a handout, _Your Lordship_, think again!" He didn't try to curtail his indignant anger; "And if I were, this would be the last place I'd go! I've never been treated so poorly in all my life… not anywhere! And I-"

"Oh, so you've traveled extensively," he said with a curve on his lips as he glanced over Quatre again.

"I didn't come here to discuss my travels," the blond snapped.

Chang began pulling at his arm again.

"No, Wufei. Let him go. Let's hear what the little urchin has to say." He scowled as he closed his eyes and shook his head. "_Shimatta_… Will this day never end."

Quatre did not know what the softly muttered curse meant. But he knew it was foreign, and he did not like the sound of the man's voice when he'd said it. He lifted his chin, suddenly remembering his defiance. "I've come to see Mister Treize Khushrenada. This man said he was not accepting visitors, whatever that means. I heard laughter and thought I would just find out for myself if the man was in, and I…"

The handsome blue-eyed man had lifted his eyebrows and was looking pointedly at the closed door where the tea party was being held.

"Ah, I'm beginning to see." A smile curved his lips, "Well, I can imagine you caused quite a stir with the ladies." His meaning was quite clear as he continued to stare curiously at Quatre's attire. "And what business do you have with Mister Khushrenada?"

"That is something I prefer to discuss with him. It is a private matter." Quatre crossed his arms and stood stiffly with his legs apart as he defied the man to turn him out.

He rolled his blue eyes upward and lifted his hand to his face. Quatre watched mesmerized as the long, slender coffee-tinted fingers rubbed his closed eyelids. Self-consciously the blond stuck his rough, calloused hands into his pockets. Those hands were not like his own, work-worn and blistered and cracked with dryness. Those were the hands of an artist or a musician.

"For your information, Wufei was not lying when he said Mister Khushrenada is not accepting guests. He is… we'll say… not well at the moment. But if you care to wait, I'll make sure see him later this afternoon."

"Y-you will?"

"But, sir," Chang said quickly, looking anxiously toward the man on the stairs.

"It's all right, Wufei. I'll accept the responsibility for this. In the meantime, take the boy to the kitchen."

The man seemed intent on making a charity of Quatre, and the blond fisted his hands, taking an angry step forward.

He lifted his hand before Quatre could utter a sound.

"Of course, if he doesn't' feel like having something to eat or drink, please don't force it down his throat as we usually do with our guests." With a lift of his aristocratic brow and a slow, sarcastic smile, he turned and walked languidly back upstairs.


	2. Chapter Two

Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes**

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Two**

"Who was that?" Quatre asked Chang as he was directed toward the back of the castle.

The man did not answer, but only glanced at him over his shoulder. It was clear he disagreed with his blue-eyed master about letting the blond stay. Quatre smiled then. Chang - Wufei - did not seem like such an ogre after all. In fact Quatre had actually felt sorry for him after the young lord had addressed him so bluntly.

He took Quatre through a huge dining hall, empty now. Quatre's footsteps slowed as he gazed about with wonder. He'd never been in such a fine castle, never known people actually lived in this manner. The paneling here seemed the same as that in the entry hall, all of it a beautiful golden oak. The ceiling of the dining room was also paneled in elaborately carved oak, and oaken beams arched high above them. They passed a long dining table that looked to seat at least fifty. At the end were huge arched windows that reached almost to the ceiling two stories above.

"Come along, young sir," Wufei snapped. "Don't dawdle."

"I've never been in such a place," Quatre explained, still staring around the room.

"No doubt," he muttered, just above a whisper.

After a few twists and turns they came to a part of the castle that was plain and more serviceable-looking. Quatre's stomach grumbled loudly as the delicious aroma of cooking drifted down the hallways to them. Wufei threw him a look of disapproval before turning into one of the rooms. The kitchen was bright and sunny, and there were several people working busily at the different pots and the wooden service tables.

All eyes turned to them as they came into the room. One of the women smiled broadly and waved a large spoon at Wufei. "What have we here, Mister Chang?" She asked. Her cheeks were flushed from the heat; as she stepped around from behind a large cauldron, her body was slim but far from frail. Her eyes flashed interestedly at Quatre as she swept one of two thick sandy blonde braids from her shoulder.

"This… young man has come to see Mister Khushrenada," Wufei explained, still glaring at Quatre with disapproval. "First he busts into the tea party and puts the ladies into a fine snit. Then his hollering disturbs the young master and sends him down the stairs to find out what's the matter." He snorted with disgust and moved to pour himself a cup of coffee.

The woman, who Quatre assumed by now to be the principal cook, smiled even more broadly, looking first at Wufei then at Quatre. "Pay no mind to him, child," she said. "He's not as cantankerous as he seems."

He grunted and gazed at Quatre over the rim of his cup. "Yuy said to feed him, if he's hungry," he growled.

Quatre was beginning to feel like a stray animal that had wandered by mistake into someone's large, warm kitchen. "My name is Quatre," he said to the blond-braided woman.

"Good to meet you, Quatre," she said, moving back and forth between her cooking pots with ease. "You look familiar. You from around these parts?"

"No, ma'am," he replied.

"Well, sit yourself down at the table there by the window and I'll dish you up something tasty. My name is Sally, by the way. And I've been cookin' here for nearly thirty years."

"You hardly look old enough to have been here that long," Quatre said, going to the table where she pointed.

She turned to Wufei with a lift of her brows and a smug little grin. "How could anyone be angry with this child?" She asked pointedly, "Why, anyone could see he's smart as a tack."

The man rolled his eyes. But here in the kitchen Quatre could see that he was not as stiff and disapproving as he had been in front of his employers. The blond smiled at him, but Wufei looked away as though embarrassed.

Sally set a plate of steaming food before Quatre, and his stomach rumbled again.

"Poor thing's starving," she murmured, patting him on the shoulder. Casually, she swept his bangs back and away from his eyes. Quatre found the gesture very sweet and welcoming, and suddenly his eyes stung with tears he tried to blink away.

He concentrated on the food before him, which seemed to be some sort of broccoli stew with a hot, flaky crust. Quatre thought it was the best meal he'd had in months. Sally watched him as she worked. She smiled at him from time to time and nodded with approval when he'd finished eating.

Quatre had no idea what to do next. So he sat quietly, looking out the window at the small enclosed courtyard just beside the kitchen. There were neat bricked-in squares which contained various pants and herbs. Beyond that was a round stone structure with a pointed roof. He asked Sally about it.

"A dovecote," she answered, distractedly. "But we don't use it anymore. Would you like to go out and look around?"

"No. I should stay here until… the man Mister Chang mentioned… Mister Yuy? He said he would see to it personally that I get to speak with Mister Khushrenada."

Her dark eyes gazed at him sympathetically, and she exchanged an odd look with one of her helpers. "Mister Khushrenada is, uh, sometimes not well," she said. "Are you sure that Heero… Mister Yuy… said you could talk to him today?"

"Yes," Quatre nodded, anxious. "Why? Do you think he wasn't telling the truth?"

"Oh no," she said with a quick laugh. "Heero Yuy is much too straightforward for that. If he had something to say, unpleasant or not, he wouldn't bother lying about it. No, he'd tell you straight to your face."

Quatre could well believe that. He tried to remember exactly what the man looked like, but all he could recall were coffee-tanned skin and fierce blue eyes.

Wufei was no longer in the kitchen, and Quatre wondered hopefully whether he had gone to fetch Mister Khushrenada. Suddenly the blond felt very alone and doubtful about having come to the castle. After all, he knew nothing about the man he had been told was his father. And from the odd looks he saw when Mister Khushrenada's name was mentioned, he was beginning to wonder what was wrong with the man.

Through the kitchen windows he could see the lengthening shadows of huge old oaks beyond the courtyard. It was growing late, and Quatre had no idea what he would do if night fell and he had no place to go. For the first time he realized how hasty he'd been. And he felt a bit of homesickness for the caravan that had been his home and family for so many years.

"Are you tired, child?" Sally asked.

"No," he said quickly, even as he tried to stifle a yawn with his hand.

"There's small cot in the cupboard behind the kitchen here. If you'd like, you may lie down until they send for you."

"Do you think they will?" He asked. "Send for me? I mean, I have nowhere to go if…"

"Don't you worry, lad. If young Heero says he will, then you can depend on it. He won't send you out into the night with nowhere to go." Her certainty took away some of Quatre's anxiety. She nodded toward the open doorway. "Go on, take that nap. I'll call you when the time comes."

Quatre couldn't resist doing as she suggested. After the warm and filling meal, he was so sleepy he could hardly hold his eyes open. The cot in the corner of the pantry looked very inviting, and he not sooner stretched out than he was fast asleep.

~o~

"Shh," he heard. He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep, wasn't even certain at first where he was. Then he remembered.

"He's been sent for." He recognized Mister Chang's voice outside the door.

"Well, I don't see what difference a few more minutes will make," Sally replied. "The poor boy was exhausted. You tell the young master that he'll have to wait."

"It's not him I'm worried about," Chang hissed. "It's Master Khushrenada. I doubt he'll stay sober for long. I can't understand how Heero got him clear-headed enough to speak to the lad. Or why, for that matter. Should have sent him packing."

"Shut up, Wufei. There's something unusual about the boy, and if I know the young master, he's clever enough to see it too. Something in his eyes, like a secret."

Wufei snorted, but there was a hint of fondness buried deep beneath the sound. "You and your flighty female romanticizing."

"As if you could resist any part that makes the whole, darling."

When she came into the room Quatre pretended to be sleeping, not wanting her to know he'd heard every word of their conversation. Only when she placed a hand to his shoulder did he turn over and open his eyes.

"Wake up, child," she said. "Young Mister Yuy has arranged for you to see the master. Just like he said," she added proudly.

The pantry was completely dark except for the light from the kitchen. The lamps on the tables had been lit, and for a moment he felt a bit of panic, wondering how far into the night he'd slept.

"Oh," he muttered, tugging at the waistband of his trousers and checking that his shirt was more neatly tucked in. He ran trembling hands over his unruly blond hair, which had pulled stray from its leather tie, and looked up to see Sally watching him.

The woman gently turned him around and swatted his hands away, taking it upon herself to tug the tie loose and gather his hair together in a somewhat tamer copy of his gypsy's tail. Quatre awkwardly accepted her help, nervously tucking his hands into the pockets of his trousers. "I didn't mean to sleep so long… I left my mare Sandi tied up outside all afternoon…"

"She's been taken care of," Sally softly assured, tying his hair behind the nape of his neck and knotting the leather tie before stepping back, satisfied. She must have read the anxiety in Quatre's face when he turned again, for her mouth tugged in a smile. "Don't fret, lad. And don't worry, you look fine."

Quatre knew she was only being kind, but it made him feel better that she cared enough to lie.

Wufei stood behind her, impatiently waiting for him. As they left the kitchen, Sally was frowning, as if something bothered her.

Wufei took Quatre back through the hallways where he'd first encountered the handsome young man whom Sally had addressed as Heero. He wondered exactly what the man meant to this place.

As they neared yet another large oak-paneled hallway, Quatre saw him, the very man he'd been thinking about, rise from a chair and stand waiting for them. He had the same amused expression on his face as he was the blond approach.

He was not as tall as Quatre had first thought, although the man still towered above him. He was not a large man, but slender, with wide shoulders and narrow hips. He had changed his clothes and his appearance made Quatre's heart falter. Tonight the man wore black evening attire, with a dazzling white shirt that was buttoned beneath his strong chin and topped with a white tie. "Good evening," he said to Quatre, his voice deep and soft as he bowed slightly toward the blond.

Just looking at him, just being in his elegant presence made Quatre feel more grubby than usual, and he hardly knew how to reply. "E-evening," he managed.

Wufei stepped forward and opened a door, then stood back waiting for them.

"Whom shall I say is calling, young sir?" He asked stiffly. He, at least, made it perfectly clear that he thought the entire matter a farce.

Quatre was tired and nervous. And standing there among strangers, beneath the amused gaze of those intense blue eyes, made him feel especially defensive. He straightened his back and stared directly into Heero Yuy's smugly handsome face as he replied.

"His son," he said with what he hoped was a haughty lift of his brows. "Tell him it's his son Quatre."

He watched as those blue eyes darkened and a frown wrinkled the man's brow for only one short moment. Then, with a nod of his head, he dismissed his servant, who had gasped aloud at Quatre's words. "That will be all, Wufei. I'll handle this."

For a moment Quatre thought the man would throw him out, for his face had become closed - angry, even. And the blue eyes that the blond had found so warm and inviting earlier were now as cold and silvered as a wintry mountain stream.

But the man surprised him.

"This way," he said, turning and going into the small, dimly lit room.

Quatre was certain his heart was beating loudly enough to be heard all the way back down in the kitchen as he faced the man near the fireplace. He stood beside a table and the lamplight lit his face as he poured something into a small crystal goblet. His thinning brown hair was combed immaculately back, with but a few stray strands falling over his brow; he was tall but stooped slightly, as though far older than his fair face would lead one to believe. When he first looked up toward Quatre, his eyes were sad and lacking much expression at all. Then they changed, growing wide and full of surprise.

With a choked sound he moved forward; the goblet fell from his hand and shattered with a loud crash on the gleaming wood floor, splattering the red wine across a nearby rug to land on Quatre's worn boots like droplets of blood.

The man stopped, his hands reaching toward Quatre and gesturing ineffectively. And the sound of his voice made a chill run along the blond's neck and down his arms to the very tips of his fingers.

"Leia!" He cried. "Oh, my sweet Leia. You've come home at last!"


	3. Chapter Three

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Three**

Instinctively, Quatre flinched back, startled by this man's reaction to him. _L-Leia?_ But 'Leia' was a woman's name, and despite his full gypsy's tail Quatre was very much in fact a male. Was the man touched in the head? He certainly looked that way as he stood gesturing soundlessly at Quatre, his dark eyes wide and fixed upon the blond's face.

Heero Yuy moved forward quickly, grasping the man's arm and leading him to a chair by the fire. "Treize," he murmured, gruffly. "Are you ill?" Then he turned to Quatre, his eyes sparking with anger. "Get Wufei, get someone…" Dismissing the blond, he turned back to the older man, who sat gasping for breath.

Quatre did as he was commanded, without thinking. But he, too, was alarmed by Treize Khushrenada's strange behavior: What if the man died right there on the spot and Quatre was somehow held responsible?

Luckily Wufei had not gone far. He stood in the hallway, his hands clasped behind his back. It was as though he had sensed something dreadful might happen and was only waiting to be summoned. Or was he always so ready to be called upon?

"Wufei… Mister Chang," Quatre cried breathlessly. "We need help. There's something wrong with Mister Khushrenada."

He seemed stunned for a moment. Then, with a quick nod of his head, he raced across the hallway and disappeared. Quatre ran back into the room. "I told Mister Chang," he said. "Is there anything else I can do?"

The other man was on one knee beside the chair, and he had loosened Treize Khushrenada's shirt and tie. The man who Quatre believed to be his father was extremely pale, and his head reclined against the back of the upholstered chair.

Heero Yuy glanced around at Quatre, his face dark and cold. "I think you've done quite enough for one day."

His words hit Quatre as though he's been physically struck. He backed away from those hateful blue eyes, which seemed almost iridescent in the dimly lit room. Quatre's legs hit the edge of a chair and he slumped into the seat wearily, hardly knowing what to do.

As he sat there, listening to the dark-haired young man who knelt beside Treize's chair, he began to calm a bit. Heero Yuy seemed to know what to do and was reassuring the older man, and Quatre found the darker man's soothing voice was doing the same for him.

"This is my fault, Treize," he said quietly. "I shouldn't have insisted on your coming here this evening. As soon as Wufei gets here, we'll take you back to your room."

"No," the man gasped, his gaze darting about. "Where is she? I must… I must see her. My sweet Leia. She's come home to me at last, Heero. Didn't you see her?"

"He is not Leia, sir," he denied, sympathetically. "He's not even female."

"Yes… yes, she is," the man insisted, his eyes searching the darkness for Quatre.

The blond cringed back into the depths of his chair, not knowing what to do or say. Who was Leia, and why was the man confused enough to believe Quatre was she?

When Wufei came in later with a couple of other men, they quickly carried Mister Khushrenada from the room. The poor man seemed almost in a state of shock and did not look Quatre's way again. Wufei glanced at him with a look that the blond though held a hint of sympathy. After everyone was gone and Quatre was left to face Heero Yuy's fury alone, he discovered why.

He strode quickly to Quatre, his face hard and angry. Silently he reached forward and dragged Quatre from the chair, pulling the him into the lamplight and twisting the blond around to face him. He held Quatre's arms tightly pinned to his sides and looked beneath fierce dark brows into the blond's face.

"Now, my little troublemaker… Who are you? And what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Quatre had never been treated in such a manner. He jerked away from the other man, going to the opposite side of the round table to put a barrier between them. Heero did not follow, but glared at him across the light. Quatre rested his hands on the table, trying desperately to steady their trembling as he spoke.

"I am Quatre Winner," he managed. "I was told that Treize Khushrenada is my father. And I came here to find out whether it's true. I wrote a letter at first, asking to speak to him, but I received a reply from another man, a Mister Odin Lowe. He dismissed my claim without a thought."

"I might've known - the boy who wrote the letter. Well, Mister Winner, was it? Mister Lowe was only acting on my orders, so I'm afraid you have me to blame for the dismissal, as you call it."

Quatre's stomach tightened with anger as he looked at the other's smug, self-assured face. He reached into the only back pocket his trousers sported and pulled something out, tossing it across the table. "Then you're probably also responsible for that."

It was a crumpled square of paper, a bank draft. Heero Yuy smoothed it upon the table so that he could read it. Then he looked up into Quatre's eyes.

"Not enough?" He drawled.

"I don't want your money," the blond snapped.

"Oh?"

Quatre's face burned as those dark blue eyes raked slowly over his worn and rumpled clothes. His gypsy pride kicked in.

"I may be poor, but I don't need your charity, or anyone else's!" He reached across the table, crumpled the paper in his fist, and hurled it into the fireplace.

The other man took a deep breath, gritting his teeth before he allowed himself to speak again. "All right, Mister Winner. Who exactly told you that you were Treize Khushrenada's son?"

"Rasid Maguanac," Quatre answered. "The man who raised me."

"Never heard of him," he said with a challenging lift of his brow.

Tiredly, Quatre reached back and ran his fingers through his gypsy's tail, wondering how he might convince this stubborn man that he was telling the truth.

"It's a long story, Mister Yuy," he said wearily. "But I'd like a chance to speak with Mister Khushrenada about it before you dismiss me completely. If I'm mistaken, then of course I will leave here and never bother you again."

"Oh, that you will, my little urchin. The problem is, what am I to do with you tonight?" Heero turned back to the fireplace and picked up a poker, stirring the dying fire into life. The room seemed cold and dark until the flames began to cast their shimmering reflection upon the golden walls. He turned, resting his elbow casually against the mantelpiece as he stared at Quatre thoughtfully. The blond could hardly take his eyes off the other's face as his white teeth chewed at his bottom lip. He watched Quatre pensively for a moment, then slowly took a step toward the blond.

Quatre stepped backward, wary of the look in the other's eye. The man had a habit of looking at one from beneath his brows, and it gave him a sinister and quite dangerous look. But no more than the way his jaw clenched and unclenched tightly as he regarded the blond before him.

The door opened and a woman burst into the room, looking about wildly before she went to the darker-haired young man and placed her hand on his arm. "Heero, what has happened? Chang said that Treize was here and that he became ill." She seemed very agitated and worried. When she turned toward Quatre he recognized her. It was the woman at the tea party, the one who had practically thrown him from the room that afternoon.

"You!" She said, and turned to Heero. "What is _he_ doing here?" She asked. She had a very distinctive, heavily accented voice, much like the blue-eyed man's but thicker. Quatre still had not placed it.

"That's exactly what I'm trying to determine," Heero replied slowly, still staring at him. "He claims to be Treize's long-lost son."

The woman gasped and took a step toward Quatre. She stared at him for a long moment, then moved to another table and struck a match, lighting lamps until the small area was aglow with light. She turned to him then, and her eyes seemed huge in her small, heart-shaped face. "Heero," she said quietly, "look at him. He does look like… he looks exactly like Leia." She seemed unnerved by her own words.

Heero placed a reassuring arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. She slumped against him and shook her head as she continued to stare at Quatre in disbelief. "Yes, Mother," he said, his own eyes speculative. "Now that you mention it, the resemblance is uncanny. In fact, Treize thought he _was_ Leia, and it seemed too much for him."

Quatre was irritated that they continued to talk about him as though he wasn't there.

"Oh no," she whispered. "I must go to him." As she turned to leave, she whirled angrily back toward the blond. "If you are lying… if you hurt him, then I swear, whoever you are, you will live to regret the day you ever came to Rosemont Castle."

Quatre stared after her as she rushed out the door. "She's… your mother?"

"Yes."

"But who… _what_ is she to my… to Treize Khushrenada?"

"She's his wife," he said slowly, watching Quatre with a hint of fire in his eyes. "Her name is Hiromi**(1)** Une-Yuy Khushrenada."

"I… s-see," Quatre responded, looking away from those fathomless blue eyes.

"I suppose we have no choice but to find a room for you. Treize will want to speak to you… when he's able." It was as though a mask had been drawn across his handsome face as he glanced over at the blond. "Do you have luggage?"

Quatre felt the heat flush his face as he stammered like a child beneath that frosty gaze. "I-I have a small bag. But I left it with my mare out front. Sally said…"

His dark eyebrows shot upward and his lips quirked at one corner. His features had become animated with interest.. "The golden Arabian is yours?" His tone was one of disbelief.

Quatre had the feeling Heero thought he had stolen the horse. The man's smug, amused looks made Quatre so furious that his fingers itched to curl into a fist and hit him. But even as he thought it, the blond had the distinct feeling that this was a man one should not strike… ever.

"Yes, the mare is mine," he said coldly, never looking away from those blazing eyes.

"And how would a boy like you happen to be in the possession of such an animal?"

"How did I know you were going to ask me that?" He snapped, just as sarcastically. "I didn't steal her, if that's what you mean. And where I got her is really none of your business, _your majesty_."

The blond was surprised to hear the other's quiet laugh. "I realize that you're in awe of me," he said. "But there is no need for you to continue to use such titles as 'lordship' and 'majesty.' I'm only a simple farmer."

Quatre knew the man was laughing at him.

"Just point me to a room, please," he said. "And perhaps tomorrow, after I've spoken to Mister Khushrenada, you won't be so self-satisfied."

"Perhaps, little Quatre," he challenged with a quick grin. "Perhaps not." He went to the door and yelled into the hallway. "Wufei? Are you there?"

The dark-eyed man came quickly, stopping just before the doorway. He peered into the room with a bright, curious gleam in his obsidian eyes.

"Mister Winner will be staying the night, Wufei. Show him to one of the guest rooms." Then, to Quatre, he said, "I'll have one of the maids bring your things in directly."

"Thank you," Quatre muttered as he followed Wufei from the room.

As they went up the long curving stairway, he glanced at the man leading the way. "How long were you in the hallway?"

"Long enough, young sir," he said with a short nod of his head.

"Mister Yuy is certainly not the friendliest man I've ever met."

"He is, if he likes one."

"Oh," Quatre started. "Well, I can't say that I'm particularly fond of him, either."

The man smiled, his teeth gleaming brightly in the shadows. "Then you'd be the first that ever felt that way, young sir. Our Heero is quite the _bishonen_,**(2)** attracting young men and women from miles around. They say he's irresistible." He laughed as he motioned Quatre into the dark hallway. "This way, young sir."

The blond sighed heavily and said nothing else until they'd reached a door near the end of the hall. The room was dark and Wufei went in quickly to light the lamps. He stood for a moment, waiting for Quatre to come in. Then, with a little wave of his hand and a nod of his head, he laughed again. "Well, this is it. Don't just stand there gawking, lad. Better enjoy it while you can, because I have a feeling come morning Mister Yuy is about to send you packing."

"Not if I have anything to say about it," Quatre muttered softly, stepping into the room with a swift, brief look around. "Mister Chang, before you go… Could you answer something for me?"

"Well, what is it?"

"Who exactly is Leia?"

His mouth turned downward, and he shrugged. "Well, lad… I'd think that if you were really Mister Khushrenada's son, you might know your own mother's name." Then, with a quick little grin, he turned and left the room.

Reluctantly, Quatre moved further into the room as Wufei closed the door behind him with a bang. The blond stood for a moment, willing himself to stay calm when what he wanted to do most was run back out into the night, find Sandi, and chase after the Maguanac caravan to beg that they take him back.

He had not thought his coming here would be easy. But neither had he been prepared for such antagonism. He felt a sense of dread move over him, and he wished he knew more than what Rasid had told him.

That they thought he looked like Leia Khushrenada was a hopeful sign. But how was he going to prove anything to these people? They obviously thought he was a less-reputable gypsy, one who wandered the roads, looking for a rich family to dupe.

Remembering the sarcastic amusement of Heero Yuy, he knew he should probably give up now. And another strange thought occurred to Quatre, one that disturbed him more than he cared to admit: If he _was_ Treize Khushrenada's son, then this man with the wild hair and potent blue eyes was his stepbrother. And he found that the feelings Heero Yuy evoked in him had little to do with anything brotherly.

1) Hiromi - No one ever revealed Lady Une's first name in the series, so I threw one in.

2) Bishonen - I realize this might not be the proper term, but it was the one to best sum up what I was trying to have Wufei explain.


	4. Chapter Four

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Four**

He was far too restless to sleep. He longed instead to slip out the door and tiptoe along the dark corridors to see what he could learn about the people living here. Had he ever lived here? He felt no connection, nothing to make Quatre think he had.

He glanced around the room.

Normally, it would have amazed him. It was brisk and elegant, containing all the touches of luxury that he had never had. The furniture was dark, with its elaborate baroque carvings, looking suitable for a castle. The bed's posts reached upward toward the ceiling, each inlaid with a multiple-threaded spiral of gold filigree. In fact, everything in the room was upholstered in gold, with only a few pillows of scarlet to accentuate it.

He walked to the heavy curtains at the windows and pushed them aside to gaze out into the darkness. He could see nothing except the rooftops of the castle and the large tower at the end that he'd noticed upon his arrival. He walked the floor, wondering about Sandi and feeling guilty because he'd fallen asleep so quickly in the kitchen without seeing to her. He thought again of Heero Yuy's surprise and his comment about Quatre's little golden mare. Quatre gathered from the man's reaction that she was rare, perhaps even valuable.

Quatre frowned, remembering when Rasid had bought her for him the previous year. It would not have mattered what kind of animal she'd been; the blond would have loved her anyway. But now he wondered: If she were indeed valuable, then where had Rasid gotten the money? Gypsies lived off the generosity of the people - even an entire caravan could never have afforded something of any monetary value.

It seemed that by coming to Rosemont Castle, instead of finding his past, Quatre found more mysteries and questions. He could only hope that when he spoke to Treize Khushrenada he would find some answers. And the fact that the older man had nearly mistaken him for the woman who was his mother was encouraging.

Leia. His mother.

The word meant nothing to him, just as seeing Treize Khushrenada's face had meant nothing. But somehow, being there and hearing her name gave him hope. For even if she had died when he was young, at least he knew she had existed and that she had loved him. And he found that he wanted to learn all he could about her.

He heard a light tap at the door, then it opened slightly and a merry little voice rang out. "Excuse me. I've brought your things."

He turned to the door to see a sprightly red-haired girl with a guileless grin across her face. She was not what one might consider beautiful, but rather wholesomely pretty, with round rosy cheeks and a delicately filled-out figure.

"Come in," he said, returning her smile.

There was nothing tentative about the girl. She stepped right into the room with no shyness and plunked the bag down upon the bed. "I'm Cathy," she said. She opened his shabby bag and began to pull the clothes from it.

"Y-you don't have to do that," Quatre said, for the first time in his life truly embarrassed over his worn and faded things.

"No trouble," she assured, taking the clothes and placing them in a dresser across the room. If she noticed the shabbiness of his clothes, she was too polite to say so. "Besides," she added, cheerfully. "That's my job. I mean, I usually take care of the young ladies on this floor, but we're somewhat lacking in proper valets in this castle. I was asked to assist you as well, because it was agreed that you could very well dress yourself. All I'd be required to do will be to help with the finer odds and ends. Although I prefer the girls, because they like me to do their hair."

She stopped her chatter long enough to look speculatively at Quatre's hair, which he had loosened from its gypsy's tail. "Oh, I could do wonders with you, if you were a girl. You got lovely hair."

Quatre laughed at her openness and her exuberance. Rasid's caravan had rarely stayed in one place long enough for the blond to have friends. But if they had, he thought that this girl, Cathy, would have been just the kind he'd have chosen.

He reached back self-consciously and ran his fingers through his blond strands, which fell wildly behind his shoulders when not tied together. "I suppose I've never given it much thought," he said with a shrug.

"How old are you?"

"I'm… I'm almost twenty."

Her eyes grew wide with surprise. "My, you don't look it. I'm eighteen, and I look older than you."

"It must be my clothes," he said, glancing down at his trousers and frayed shirt.

"Why do you wear those things, anyway?" She asked candidly.

"W-well… It's all I've ever worn. We traveled a great deal, and there was never much money to go around, so…"

"My family's never had much money, either. And there were times I wore my brother's old britches, so I won't deny their practicality. But I prefer dresses. Makes a girl appear more womanly - wouldn't you say?"

"Yes," he stammered awkwardly. "I-I guess so…"

But Cathy had already gone on to another subject as she walked about the room, fluffing pillows and smoothing out the curtains. "What are you doing here, anyhow?"

Quatre shook his head and laughed at her, and for the first time she looked a bit sheepish. "Oh, I'm sorry, sir. I just ramble on all the time about nothing. I didn't mean to pry. Lady Khushrenada tells me all the time I'm much too sassy and talkative. But I can't seem to stop it… oh, dear." She stopped, her hand flying up to cover her mouth.

He was laughing hard now, for he thought she was quite funny as well as completely charming. "It's all right, Cathy. Really. You're the first person I've met in this place who seems halfway friendly to me… except Sally, down in the kitchen."

"Yeah?" She said with a grin. "Well, you just have to get use to the Khushrenadas. They're a strange family, but not half-bad. Mister Khushrenada, poor man, is almost always drunk - sick, as they prefer us to say. And his wife is purely daft about him. If she wasn't such a helpless do-nothing sort of woman, I'd almost feel sorry for her."

"Why's that?" He asked.

Cathy looked around as though to make sure no one was listening. Quatre supposed she would really have been in trouble of she were caught gossiping about her employers. "Well, I believe Lady Khushrenada loves her husband. But he won't give her the time of day. I've been here only a year, but they say he's always treated her that way. Maybe that's the reason she's so picky and complaining, maybe she's just real unhappy. But Mister Khushrenada, they say he's lost in his grieving for his first wife and their son, that he never got over them leaving."

Quatre was growing more and more curious about what had happened then. And he wondered, not for the first time, how Rasid fit into the mystery. He had assumed the man was a relative of his mother's, but now he wasn't so sure.

"How long ago was that?" He asked. His heart was pounding heavily at her words. Was he really the son she spoke of? The son that Treize Khushrenada still grieved for?

"Oh, sixteen… eighteen years… I don't know for sure. A long time ago, long enough for him to be over it by now. But for some reason he's just stuck in the past, and as I said, poor Lady Khushrenada is left on her own to fuss with the castle and her gardens and spend money on new dresses. If it wasn't for _her_ son, I bet she would have left some time ago."

"Heero Yuy," he recalled.

"Yeah." Her eyes brightened perceptively, and he could see their grayish-green shine in the lamplight. "You met him already? Now, not to say anything against your own pretty looks, but _there's_ a man and a half. Wouldn't mind putting my shoes under _his_ bed." She looked at Quatre with a little expression of shock, but then laughed heartily. "Oh, there I go again. Sorry, sir, I shouldn't be saying such things to you, you being a guest here and all."

"It all right, Cathy," he said. "I won't repeat anything you've told me." But he had to admit he was shocked and amused at her words. He'd never been exposed to a girl like Cathy, outside Rasid's caravan, with so free and happy a spirit and who was open with her speech. Quatre found that he was much more intrigued by it than scandalized.

"You never did say why you're here," she reminded, running her eyes over him once more. He was sure it was obvious to her that he didn't belong in such a place.

"I've come to speak with Mister Khushrenada, but he took ill. I was told I'd have to wait until tomorrow. I only hope I won't have to wait too long."

"Hmm," she pondered. "Well, you never know with him. He's been locked in his room for now for weeks, so I'd say it's about time for a good period… sober, that is, if you understand my meaning."

"Yes," Quatre agreed, feeling sorry for the man. "I do."

"Lord, would you look at the time? I've got to get on to the rest of the rooms or I'll never get my work done."

"Long day?" He asked. "I suppose you're tired."

"Tired? I'm never too tired for seeing a strong, handsome man, and that's exactly where I plan to be in about thirty minutes. Well, goodnight, sir. Good luck tomorrow with Mister Khushrenada. If it's a job you're hunting, I hope you get that, too. Then we'll have plenty of time for talking." She left in a merry little whirl, making the room seem quiet and gloomy without her presence.

The castle had grown still, and Quatre found that the excitement of the past few hours had left him feeling very tired. He bathed quickly at the washstand near the bed, then peeled away his rough, heavy clothes and climbed beneath the soft covers of the elegant bed.

He could hear the wind whistling around the corners and roofs of the castle, could even hear it rattling the door to the hallway. Several times during the night he woke to a noise only to realize it was the wind rattling the doors and windows. But it was not the first time he'd had to sleep in a strange place, and he had learned to sleep through anything. He succumbed to slumber again rather quickly.

~o~

He woke the next morning to a tapping at the door. Eyeing the rich silk robe laid out over a chair, knowing he would only feel uncomfortable if he wore it, he tugged on his clothes from yesterday before answering the door. He was surprised to see Cathy there again so early. But looking at the little clock beside the bed, he saw that it was almost nine. Quatre could hardly believe he had slept so late.

"Come in," he said, stepping back from the door to allow her into the room.

"Well, good news," she smiled, setting a tray down on the table beside the bed. "I've been told to inform you that Mister Khushrenada wishes to see you right away." She nudged Quatre with her elbow; "Didn't I tell you he was about ready for a round of soberness?" Laughing merrily, she poured steaming coffee into a china mug that had been sprigged with twining silver.

In the morning light Quatre could see Cathy's face more clearly. His assumption the night before was confirmed - she was quite pretty. A small sprinkling of pale freckles, but nothing could detract from her sparkling eyes and happy smile. "Don't you want your coffee? Perk you right up."

"I… I don't drink coffee…"

Her mouth puckered briefly in a little pout, but then her smile returned as she motioned to a smaller pitcher on the tray. "Tea?"

"Thank you," he nodded gratefully.

She took the china mug to a window and deftly tossed the steaming liquid out. Borrowing a bit of water from his washbasin, she rinsed out the last of it from the mug, and then returned to fill it this time with a warm orange-brown liquid instead. "There you are," she motioned grandly, giving the blond room to sit upon the bed to eat.

The tea quickly revived Quatre, and as he ate the breakfast she'd brought his mind was in a whirl as he tried to put together what he might say to Treize Khushrenada.

"You're not very talkative this morning," Cathy commented bluntly. "I'd have thought you'd be excited to see the mister."

"I am excited," he said. "It's just that I'm afraid I'll make a fool of myself, or say the wrong thing. It's complicated."

"Complicated? Well, I don't know about that, but I do know you'd best be about before Mister Yuy comes storming in here for you. He and his mother are from the Orient, and I hear the people there have a nasty temper. I'd even overheard him and Lady Khushrenada arguing."

"Arguing? A-about me?"

"All I know is, he doesn't want you to see Mister Khushrenada; neither does she. But where she ends up trying to please the man, her son doesn't always see eye-to-eye. I think sometimes he tries too hard to protect him."

"He doesn't have to protect him from me," Quatre muttered as he set they tray aside, standing. "Could you turn around? It probably wouldn't do for me to show in the same clothes as yesterday."

She nodded, turning her back to him and staring fixedly toward another corner of the room. But she continued to talk as he retrieved a clean shirt and trousers and dressed himself. "I heard Mister Yuy say he didn't trust the boy. I guess that means you. Said he'd worked too hard on this estate to let some little beggar boy come in off the street and carry the place off."

"He said that?" Quatre asked, furious. His fingers began to tremble as he buttoned his shirt.

"Yes, he did. Then Lady Khushrenada said she had a headache and begged him not to make a scene but if I know him, it won't matter _what_ she says. When he gets angry…" Her shoulders gave a delicate shiver.

"You may turn around now," he permitted, tucking his shirt into the waist of his trousers. "Anyway, we'll see. Heero Yuy might not be as clever as he thinks he is."

Cathy grew very still, and she watched him warily. "Now… w-wait a minute, sir. I don't like that look on your face. Don't underestimate that man. He might be a year or five shy of thirty and pretty to look at, but he's no little boy. He can be downright dangerous when he's a mind to be."

"I'm not afraid of him," Quatre declared, gathering his unruly hair into a gypsy's tail and winding a leather strip around it before knotting it tight. He dared not admit to her just how afraid he really was. He truly hoped the man they were speaking about would not be with Treize Khushrenada this morning.

"I didn't say you should be afraid, but don't be foolish, either. He has nothing to lose, and whatever it is you're wanting here, you'd best be careful. He's run this place since he was a boy, and what he says is law here at Rosemont Castle."

Quatre could not tell her the real reason he was at the castle. But he wondered what she would say if she knew. She seemed to know everything else that went on.

Hurriedly, the blond grabbed something from his bag and tucked it into his pocket - one of the few clues Rasid had left him from Quatre's forgotten childhood. He hoped his real father might remember it. It was a remote possibility, but it was all he had left of the little boy he had been.

As Cathy took him to Treize Khushrenada's room, Quatre found his mind attuned once more to what he might say. He hoped to be able to sit quietly and talk to the man, to explain carefully what Rasid had said and ask reasonably if there was a possibility that he was the son that had been lost. And he was afraid he couldn't do that if Heero Yuy was standing there, watching, glaring with those disquieting blue eyes.

But as luck would have it, those very eyes were the first thing Quatre saw as the door swung open. Mister Yuy stood back to let the blond in. And as he felt Cathy's hand pat him softly on the back for reassurance, Quatre walked into the room, feeling as though he'd just entered the lion's den.


	5. Chapter Five

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Five**

He paid little attention to the room, except to note that it was dark and somber. Even though the spring sunshine was bright outside, the curtains in the room had been closed and the lamps lit. Treize Khushrenada sat in a high-backed chair at the windows and the dim light filtered through the closed curtains, casting his face in shadow. But Quatre could feel the man's eyes watching him anxiously as he moved closer. There were two other chairs near him, but hesitantly Quatre turned to look at the man behind him before going to sit down.

His brows lowering in a slight frown, Heero motioned toward the chairs. The blond quickly sat. The darker man took the other chair just across from him. Those eyes this morning were cold and unrevealing, and his sensuous lips were slightly pursed as he watched Quatre thoughtfully. The skepticism on his face could not be missed, and Quatre's heart sank toward his stomach.

He looked at the man he had come to see, trying to focus all his thoughts and attention shutting out Heero Yuy's presence. The older man was staring at the blond, and there was a look of worry across his face. "You claim to be my son," he said. His voice was surprising. Quatre had expected resentment, or defensiveness. But instead the man spoke warmly, in a smooth, deep voice that was infinitely patient.

"Yes, sir," Quatre replied, barely realizing he had inched forward and was sitting on the edge of his seat. "I-I apologize for upsetting you last night, but I had no idea of the circumstances of my disappearance. You see… I know very little about my past. And I learned of your existence only a few weeks ago, when my father… when the man I _thought_ was my father… died."

Treize Khushrenada leaned forward in his chair, and Quatre was surprised at the hope in the older man's tired eyes. "And who was this man? What was his name?"

"Maguanac," Quatre said. "Rasid Maguanac."

He frowned and glanced quickly at his stepson. "Rasid… Maguanac. I know no one by the name of Maguanac. But Rasid… there _was_ a man named Rasid." He stopped for a moment as though composing himself and the look on his face was one of bitterness. "Do you have a picture of this man? Or can you tell me what he looked like?"

"Well… I don't recall that he was ever an ugly man," the blond began, hesitantly. "He was… about your age, I'd say, although he rarely spoke of anything personal. In fact, I know very little about him or his past. He always said to me that he had no living relatives. He was tall, a big man, with dark hair that only gleamed brown under direct sunlight… Dark eyes…"

Mister Khushrenada stood quickly and clutched his head as though he felt faint. Heero stood at the same time and moved toward him.

"No, no," the older man said, placing a restraining hand on Heero's arm. "I'm all right. I think I only got up too quickly." He walked slowly to the center of the room and turned to look at Quatre again. "And you say this man is dead, now?"

"Yes," the blond replied weakly. "Just a few weeks ago. He died of consumption."

"And where were the two of you when he died?"

"In… in Sanc, a small community across the mountain."

"Yes," he said with a wave of his hand. "I know where Sanc is."

All the while Heero Yuy watched Quatre, studied him. The blond, unable to tuck his hands into his pockets to steady them, clasped them together in his lap instead… but nothing he did could still the quivering in his stomach.

"We crossed into the area only last winter. Rasid seemed determined to get us there before he died. And I thought later that perhaps _this_ was the reason."

"Did he give you any proof, a picture of you, or of… your mother?"

Quatre did stand now and reached into his pocket and passed the older man a folded scrap of faded red cloth, which had once been embroidered with black thread. "Only this. He left me very few possessions - we had little between the two of us to begin with - but this was the only thing I thought had any connection to my childhood."

Treize Khushrenada took the cloth, his fingers moving over it as though it might give him some clue as to its origin. He studied it carefully, a frown between his brows, but there was no recognition. He sat back down, still clutching the scrap of cloth in his hands.

"You say you were raised by Rasid alone. When did… when did your mother die?" It seemed a hard question for him to ask.

"My mother? I-I have no recollection of her."

Quatre saw the slow smile on Heero Yuy's face and the blond knew the darker man thought he had won. He clasped his hands together again.

"Treize's son disappeared from Rosemont when he was three years old," Heero said confidently. "Surely… if you were that son… you would have _some_ recollection of her." His blue eyes shone triumphantly.

"I'm sorry. I don't remember her, that's all I can tell you. But it is the truth, Mister Khushrenada, what Rasid had told me. If there is any deceit, I swear it is not mine."

He took a deep breath. Quatre could see the older man struggling to believe him, and he remembered something. "Last night - when you called me Leia - wasn't that because I look at least something like her? Like my mother?"

Heero bristled noticeably, but he said nothing.

"Yes," Mister Khushrenada admitted softly. "Despite the difference in gender, you look so much like her that I thought…"

"Treize," Heero interrupted. "Let me get you a cup of coffee, something to eat."

"No," he said with a weak smile. "I appreciate your concern, son, but I'm fine. What I need more than anything is just to talk… to think this thing through."

With a heavy sigh Heero sat back in his chair, glancing restlessly at Quatre. His angry looks made the blond feel uncomfortably hot.

Treize sat looking at the material in his hands. Then he suddenly rose and went to the fireplace at the end of the room. He lit lamps on both ends of the mantel and in the reflection Quatre saw a large gilt-framed portrait above the fireplace.

"Open the curtains," he whispered, still gazing up at the portrait.

Heero and Quatre both rose at the same time, not knowing to which the older man addressed. Their hands touched, and Quatre flinched away as though his skin had struck something hot. With a slow, sarcastic smile, Heero reached over the blond's shoulder and pushed the curtains aside. Quatre could smell the crisp, masculine scent of the darker man and feel Heero's breath on his skin. Quickly he stepped away and went to the fireplace.

He held his breath as he looked up at the portrait, awash now in the sunlight that streamed through the windows. It was of a woman and a little boy, and Quatre knew instinctively that it was his mother… _and him_. It was a feeling as ingrained as love, as natural as the joy of laughter. And as he looked into the eyes of Leia Khushrenada, it was as though he looked into his own. The little boy in her arms seemed not nearly so familiar to Quatre as the beautiful blonde woman who held him. It _was_ his mother… _had_ to be… as surely as anything.

Quatre couldn't speak, nor even move. He stared at the portrait, transfixed, and when he turned to Treize Khushrenada, the older man watched him with tears in his eyes. "You recognize her, don't you?" He asked, with quiet surprise.

"Yes," Quatre whispered, brokenly. "I-I think I do…"

Treize held the scrap of cloth up to the portrait of the little boy, to the fancy red shirt the boy had been wearing. And although it certainly seemed similar, Quatre could not tell from the faded, worn piece whether it had come from that same shirt… and he suspected the older man couldn't, either.

"I believe it's the same," the man declared in an emotional voice, turning to the darker man standing behind them. "Heero, tell me what you think."

"I think it's what you want to believe, Treize," he said softly.

"Yes, I'll admit that. It is." The older man turned to Quatre and placed his hands on the blond's shoulders. "But it's more than that… It's something I feel… something here, in my heart." He touched a hand to his chest.

Heero was noticeably disturbed, chewing at his lip as Quatre had seen him do before. "It's your decision entirely, Treize," he said, though Quatre could tell how badly he hated to say it. "I will abide by your wishes in this matter, regardless of what you choose."

Treize went to the younger man and embraced him. "You don't know how much it means to me, Heero, hearing you say that. If the boy is my son, I want you to know it will not change things between you and me - not one bit. When I married your mother, it was as much because of you as her. I regarded you always as another son."

"I know that, Treize."

"You have been as loyal and good to me as if you were my own, and I love you; I always will. Nothing will ever change that."

As they embraced, Quatre thought for a second there was a hint of moisture in Heero's cool blue eyes. But within moments it was gone, replaced by a quiet, fathomless indifference when he turned to look at Quatre.

"I want you to set your man Lowe on this, Heero. I want us to do everything we can to find out about Rasid and this boy. And I want to know what happened to Leia after she left Rosemont."

"I'll attend to it right away," Heero said quietly.

Treize Khushrenada looked like a different man now. The tiredness was gone from his eyes, and his shoulders seemed stronger, not so stooped. He turned to the blond with a happy smile. "I didn't even ask your name, my boy."

"It's Quatre, sir," he said, almost timidly.

The man turned to Heero with a quick look of hopefulness. "Quatre… You see, Heero? His name is Quatre." Then he rested hand to the blond's shoulder, explaining, "My son's name was Quatre… Quatre Raberba."

He went to the chair by the windows as though he were suddenly exhausted. Quatre glanced at Heero nervously, waiting for the darker man to make the first move.

"He needs to rest," was all Heero said as he bent over the older man and handed him as glass of water.

Quatre nodded and stepped toward the door, wondering if he'd been dismissed. He had the strangest feeling, one of joy and apprehension, and he hardly knew what to do or how to express what he was feeling.

Heero helped Treize Khushrenada from the chair, walking carefully with him to the large bed in the corner of the room. As tenderly as a woman would do, he helped the older man into bed and covered him with a quilt before going to close the curtains again. Then he turned to Quatre, and blond shuddered at the look on his face.

He came and took Quatre's arm, practically dragging him from the room and down the hallway to the blond's bedroom. Unceremoniously he pulled the blond inside and closed the door. Quatre backed away from him, uncertain of the cold fire in those eyes. But the man made no effort to come closer.

"If you're lying to him, I swear…"

"I'm not!" Quatre denied quickly. "If _he_ believes me, why can't you?"

He laughed then, a laugh devoid of humor. "Oh, you're very good at this, my little gypsy. I'll give you that. With those great, aqua blue eyes and that tremulous little pout on your pretty lips, who could deny you anything?" Then he did step closer, almost stalking. "But _I_ am not Treize Khushrenada, and my heart is _not_ involved. So be careful of me, little one. For if _anyone_ is to discover your lying little secrets, it will be me. And when I do, I'll destroy you as surely as you're trying to destroy him. _Do you understand me?_"

Quatre was shaking so badly he couldn't speak. The quietly spoken threat angered and shocked him more than if Heero had shouted and raged at him. When the darker man was angry his odd, rolling accent became thicker, more pronounced - as though when in anger he had no control.

Heero stepped closer to him, his warm, slender fingers wrapping themselves around the back of Quatre's neck. His thumb pushed against the blond's chin, forcing Quatre to look up at him.

"Do not mistake me, _warabe_. You'd better have covered your tracks well."

When he left, Quatre's knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. Hot tears of humiliation ran unchecked down his cheeks.

At that moment he hated Heero Yuy with all of his heart.


	6. Chapter Six

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor due I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Six**

He had no idea what to do. The words and manner of Treize Khushrenada had cheered and encouraged him. Yet Heero had managed to wipe it all away in only a few moments and leave him feeling even more unwelcome than before.

What was Quatre to do, sit there in his room until the arrogant man gave him permission to leave it? Was he going to leave everything in Heero's hands… his future at Rosemont, certainly his happiness at the moment.

Quatre took a deep breath and dragged himself up from the floor. Angrily, he wiped his eyes and went to the washstand to throw cool water on his flaming cheeks.

He would not sit quietly in his bedroom, conveniently out of Heero Yuy's way. And he would _not_ skulk around apologetically as though he had done something wrong. He had seen his mother's portrait, and he knew as only a son could that _this_ was his home. And if his feelings for Treize Khushrenada were not quite so strong, well, he was certain that would come with time. After all, he'd had a father all his life, one that he'd loved dearly, and the treasured memory of Rasid would not leave him so quickly.

Quatre made his way downstairs, taking the wrong hallway twice before he finally found the kitchen. He was pleased to see Sally there and went in with a smile to greet her.

Her eyes grew wide and speculative, and she moved close to him with a noted caution. "Well, lad, you've certainly managed to stir up this stuffy old household. Is it true?" She handed him a slice of freshly baked bread which he took gratefully.

"If you mean is Treize Khushrenada really my father, then I must tell you I honestly don't know. I have no proof, except a piece of a shirt that once belonged to me. But when I saw the portrait of my mother, of Leia Khushrenada, I felt something. At this point, no one else would believe it's anything but wishful thinking."

"Well, if you're a swindler, lad, you're a good one. Because I believe you. Besides, didn't I say that you look familiar? _Just_ like her… even excusing the gender difference." She lifted her brows and smiled at him, her dark eyes crinkling at the corners.

"Thank you," Quatre said. "I'm glad you believe me, especially after…" He hesitated, not wanting to become overly familiar with anyone yet. Rasid had taught him caution with strangers, and even though this friendly woman seemed kind and sympathetic, he could not be sure she really meant it.

"After what, lad? Heero? Mister Chang _did_ mention some unfriendly words between you two." She smiled knowingly at Quatre as he tried to appear disinterested. "Don't pay him any mind; he's not nearly so fierce as he would have you think. He's protective and he's cautious, but there's not a mean bone in his body."

Quatre wasn't so sure, but he didn't argue.

After learning the directions to the stable, he took another slice of hot bread and went out the back door. He took his time, strolling through the kitchen courtyard he'd seen the day before. He stopped to pull sprigs of various herbs, crushing them between his fingers and letting their fragrance brush his troubled thoughts away.

The stable was well away from the castle, past a narrow stand of oak and beech trees. There was a young man working there, placing hay into the various stalls.

"Hello," Quatre said tentatively, not wanting to startle him.

"Hey," he answered with a small smile as he looked up at the blond. He was not much older than Quatre, tall and slim and somewhat attractive. Quatre wondered with a touch of mischief if this was the strong, handsome man that Cathy had been so eager to sneak off to last night.

"I was told my mare was brought here."

"So," he grinned. "You're the one with the fancy filly."

"Well… I've never thought of Sandi as fancy…"

"Oh, but she is," he insisted, knowingly. "She's a real fine horse. Even Mister Heero was impressed with her, and he's a real good judge of horses."

Quatre clenched his jaw and walked away. "So I hear."

He laughed. "You two have some words?"

"Words? Yes, I suppose you could say that," he replied stiffly. "Where is Sandi?"

"She's right back here," he said, still chuckling.

Sandi was happy to see her rider. She nibbled at Quatre's hand and whinnied contentedly. It was difficult getting the saddle on her, because she kept pushing her nose back against his shoulder as he worked. "Stop it, now," he reprimanded, shoving her head back around with a laugh. But Quatre had to admit, seeing her brought a familiarity that he very much needed, and by the time he rode out of the stable he was feeling much better about his situation.

Sandi was frisky, having been penned up for so long. Quatre reined her toward a long, narrow roadway surrounded by a thick forest of trees on both sides. Once on the road he let her run, laughing as they went, enjoying the feel of the wind that roared in his ears and threatened to free his gypsy's tail.

Suddenly they came out of the woods and into a flat, cultivated area. He pulled the reins slightly, allowing Sandi to calm down slowly to a trot. He looked about at the neatly kept area. There were rows and rows of plants, vines of some sort, most of them trained onto trellises. All the plants were bare and stark-looking, giving the land a strange, dreamlike atmosphere. But Quatre liked it; he was fascinated by the place which was like a small valley with rows of symmetry-aligned plants as far as the eye could see.

The narrow dirt road went all the way through the large cultivated flat. He rode until they came to the last of the planted rows and the beginning of a dense forest. There was a little stream nearby that trickled merrily from the sloping hillside. The hill rose to a fairly high ridge, and near the top he could see thick outcroppings of rough grey rocks.

He stopped and let Sandi have a drink of cool water. Then he sat down, leaning against the smooth trunk of a large beech tree. The day had grown warm, and he sat in what shade there was from the bare-limbed tree. He felt the soft breeze against his skin and listened to Sandi as she grazed nearby. He was aware of being sleepy and closing his eyes for only a moment.

~o~

He wasn't sure what woke him. Perhaps the cool breeze that had begun to stir. He glanced around, unnerved for a moment as he tried to recall where he was. But he was aware of the cold and looked up to see a sky that had grown dark and stormy. He heard Sandi's low whinny and glanced at her. Her front hoof pawed the ground and her eyes were huge; her nostrils flared as she looked across the rocky stream toward the stand of trees.

Then Quatre saw it. The great black animal seemed to blend into the bare grey branches of the trees and bushes. The creature was enormous, much larger than a dog. It was just across the stream from them, and even in the low rush of wind in the surrounding trees, Quatre could hear its deep, menacing growl. Its head was lowered as it watched them cautiously, its legs bent and ready to spring. The frightening thought occurred to Quatre that Sandi was ready to bolt and he would be left there alone, with no hope of defending himself if the animal attacked.

He dared not risk alarming Sandi any further, so he crept slowly toward the golden mare, stopping from time to time and looking toward the large black wolf-like creature. It still watched from across the stream, and Quatre stared at it so hard that sometimes it seemed to waver before his very eyes. He blinked against the drying wind and spoke to Sandi.

"Easy, girl," he whispered, raising his hand slowly toward her bridle. "It's all right, my pretty; don't leave me now…"

She stood quietly, although she still rolled her eyes frantically and shook her head with terror. Quatre had her bridle in his hand and with a quick jump he was in the saddle, holding her tightly lest she dump him on the ground and bolt. He had not intended to let her run, hoping instead to move slowly away from the animal that watched them. But Sandi was frightened and too strong for him, and they took off in a flash with Quatre holding on desperately.

As he glanced over his shoulder, he saw the black creature rise up from its crouched position. His heart pounded furiously within his chest as he anticipated its leap across the creek toward them. But it only stood there, its large black head raised as it watched them gallop away toward the dirt road.

Quatre leaned down close to Sandi's ear, trying to soothe her. "It's all right now, girl," he murmured. "We did it; we're out of danger."

He had not expected anyone else to be so far from the castle. But when Quatre looked up, it seemed the horse in front of them had come from nowhere. With alarm, he pulled the reins hard to the right, and they flew past the rider in a blur. Of course, he knew his Sandi had never been in danger of colliding with the other horse. But he had a feeling the other rider might not have agreed. For in the second that it took them to get past, he had clearly seen the startled blue eyes of Heero Yuy.

By the time they reached the stable Sandi was hot, her beautiful golden coat lathered with foam. Quatre was wiping her dry and leading her around the yard in front of the stable Heero came riding in.

The blond expected him to be angry, but instead he slid coolly down from the big white horse and walked steadily closer. He didn't speak, didn't even bother to look at Quatre, but instead took a cloth from the stableboy who stood nearby. Standing on the other side of Sandi, Heero slowly and efficiently slid the cloth down the mare's withers and to the top of her hip. The little filly's skin quivered, but she did not move away from him.

His voice was muffled when he spoke, since he still had not bothered to look at Quatre. "You ride very well, little gypsy…"

The blond paused, staring. "T-thank you."

"But if I had a mount like this, I think I might be more careful of her well-being." There was no mistaking the disapproval in his deep voice.

"You _don't_ have her," Quatre snapped. "_I_ do."

"And how exactly did you come by her? You never did say."

"That… is none of your business."

He laughed sarcastically. "It doesn't matter. I think you're forgetting that soon I will know everything about you."

"I doubt, Heero Yuy, that you will ever know everything about me."

He looked across the horse at Quatre, his eyes emitting sparks of blue steel. "Don't be so sure. Now… why don't you tell me what you were running from today."

"Running?" Quatre asked, surprised the darker man should ask such a question.

"I think even you would not treat this beautiful mare so carelessly… without a reason." Heero glanced at him again, "Unless, of course, you hoped to impress me with your expertise."

Quatre's free hand fisted at his side. He could not believe the man's arrogance. "I was _not_ running. Sandi was a little excited, that's all. I had a bit of a problem controlling her after we saw the wolf…"

The stableboy, still standing nearby, made a choking sound. "Wolf?" He asked, "You saw the wolf… the _black_ wolf?"

"Yes," Quatre confirmed, turning to look at his frightened face.

"It's all right, Trowa," Heero said to the young man. "You can take the little Arabian back to her stall now."

Trowa nodded, but his eyes were still on Quatre and the blond could see the fear in his stare. Was the wolf really dangerous, then? Had Quatre's escape been luckier than he knew?

The moment the stableboy's retreating back was out of earshot, Quatre wondered aloud, "What's wrong?"

"Did you see it," Heero asked in return. "The wolf?"

"Yes, I saw an animal… a large black wolf, or dog. I won't deny that its appearance shook me a great deal. I was afraid Sandi would run away and leave me out there."

"Out where? Where were you?"

"Past the vines, to where the hills begin again. There was a stream, and-"

"_Shimatta!_" He bit off with a clenching of his jaw. "_What_ is wrong with you? Have you no better sense than to go wandering off in a strange place? Shall I restrict you to your room to keep you out of trouble? Why didn't you tell someone where you were going?"

"Which question do you want me to answer first?" Quatre angrily shot back.

The darker man was so furious that his breathing was hard, and for a moment Quatre was afraid Heero might actually strike him. He stepped back, wary. He must have looked as unnerved as he felt, for when Heero glanced at him, the other man's expression changed to one of surprise. His hands went to his hips and his head fell back in a gesture of defeat as he loudly expelled the air from his lungs.

"I'm sorry," he said quietly, startling Quatre with the sudden gentleness in his voice. "I shouldn't have yelled at you. But, damn it, _warabe_… Hell, what's the use? You probably wouldn't listen to me now, anyway." He looked at Quatre for a long moment as though he might make another attempt, but then he shook his head and turned toward the castle. "You'll have dinner with the family tonight. Seven o'clock. See if you can find something… suitable, to wear."

Quatre wanted to throw something at the man, but instead he hurried into the stable to find the stableboy Trowa. There was something that Heero Yuy was not telling him.

The stableboy seemed surprised to see him, and Quatre could still sense the fear in him. "What did you mean about the wolf, Trowa?" The blond asked.

"Did you really see him?" The young man whispered, his eyes wide.

"Yes. Is he dangerous? Mad, or rabid?"

"He belongs to the Demon. Not many people have seen him. It's a bad sign."

"A bad sign?"

Trowa leaned closer, as though he was afraid someone might hear. "An omen. Every time somebody at Rosemont sees the black wolf, there's a death in the castle."

Quatre frowned at him, "You're not serious?"

"I am, sir. And if you're smart, you'll take it seriously too. Best be careful for the next day or two." He turned away and went back to his chores, leaving Quatre to turn quietly back to the castle.

The storm seemed then to be closing around the huge structure, the mists of rain already obliterating its clean square lines, making it appear dim and shadowy. Quatre felt as though someone was watching him, and he began to run. Just as he stepped into the shelter of the back door, he heard a sound that sent chills down his neck.

It was a low, moaning noise, and it grew clearer and drew closer, until it seemed to surround him. He looked nervously around the yard and the narrow, enclosed roadway, but he could see nothing. Quickly, with a shudder, he went inside. It was only the wind in the oaks, Quatre told himself. It couldn't possibly be what it sounded like… the eerily mournful howl of a wolf.


	7. Chapter Seven

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Seven**

He hurried to his room, not even bothering to stop by the kitchen to speak to Sally. The approaching storm had darkened the golden oak paneling along the hallways, increasing Quatre's apprehension. It was an odd sensation for him. He had never feared anything, except perhaps being alone and homeless, a scenario traveling with a caravan had always chased away. The darkness of someone's supernatural stories had never bothered him until now. He strode quickly down the hallway and into his room, immediately lighting a lamp near the doorway.

He scanned the shadowy room and went to light more lamps. Curiously, he stepped to the windows, looking across the rooftops. He was beginning to get a feel of direction in the castle, and he thought he was somewhere over the kitchen courtyard. He stood on tiptoe and stretched as far as he could, but still he could see nothing. Not the stable, or the roadway near it.

Sighing, he turned away, wishing there was someone in the castle he could trust, someone he could ask about the story Trowa had told him. He had been so caught up in it and his curiosity about the wolf that he had thought little about the coming evening. But now, as he recalled Heero's words about dinner with the family, a heavy dread filled him. How he wished he could escape that ordeal! Maybe if he rode off into the forest again… But no, not yet, not until he could determine whether there was anything credible behind Trowa's warning. And then, with a sudden simmering flush of temper, Quatre wondered just where the darker man thought he was going to find something suitable to wear.

Just at that moment someone knocked at the door. He opened it to find Cathy standing there, smiling broadly at him. And as though she'd read his thoughts, a fine three-piece suit was draped over her arm. "This is for you," she said, stepping into the room. "To wear to dinner tonight."

"To wear to… but where did you get it? Whose is it?"

"It's yours, now," she said with a touch of exasperation. "But where Mister Yuy got it, I have no idea - the fit's too small for it to be one of his own. Never know about that man; he has a way of getting things done." She laid out the suit across the bed and stepped back to let Quatre admire it.

Quatre had never seen anything like it, in all the world. The shirt was of soft white silk, while the vest was cut of dark black velvet. The trousers and jacket were both a clean, crisp grey. And then Cathy surprised him further, opening her fist with another smile to show a pair of glistening silver cufflinks. "Aren't they something," she whispered. "And the colors of the suit will go perfectly with your pale skin and golden hair." She paused, "I could brush it out and tie it back for you, if you want."

"Thank you, no," he refused, through clenched teeth. "I'll manage it myself, tonight."

She looked at him, studiously. "You don't like it, do you."

"The suit is fine… But I have clothes to wear; I don't need charity from the high and mighty Mister Yuy. Or anyone else, for that matter." Quatre didn't know why he was so angry, or why the sight of the suit filled him with such sad, lonely feelings. It was not something he could explain, or even wanted to think about just then. He looked up, "I would like a bath, though, if…"

"Sure," Cathy nodded, still looking a bit puzzled. "I'll see to it right away."

After she'd gone, Quatre stood staring at the suit on the bed, and the cufflinks she had placed near the jacket's sleeve. He'd always wondered what it would feel like to wear something so fine. But, stubbornly, he picked the suit up and hung it in a tall armoire across the room, stashing the cufflinks in one of its overhead drawers, out of sight and temptation. He would wear his own clothes and he would be himself… Quatre Winner. If Heero Yuy expected to turn him into another of those submissive young gentlemen who fawned over the darker man as much as the ladies, he was badly mistaken.

Cathy had little to say when she returned with the water for Quatre's bath. "Sure you don't want me to do your hair? I promise not to make it look girly or anything."

"No, Cathy," he shook his head. "But it has nothing to do with you. Perhaps, some day…"

"Sure," she smiled. "We'll do it privately, just the two of us, and if you don't like it no one will be the wiser."

He smiled at her attempt to console and understand him. He imagined it was hard for her, being the soft feminine sort of girl she was, and the only maid assigned to assist a young male.

She glanced to where he'd laid a clean pair of trousers on the bed. "You're wearing that to dinner?"

"I am."

She bit her lip as she placed clean towels on a chair near the tub. "Mister Yuy will have a fit, you know…"

"What?"

"Begging your pardon for saying so. But Mister Yuy will be madder than the devil! I told you before, didn't I, that his word is law here. And he's purely fearsome when he gets mad."

Quatre could believe that, remembering the conversation in the stable, but he refused to admit to it. With a lift of his chin, he said, "Too bad."

"Oh," she fretted with a shake of her red hair. "I hope you know what you're doing. But if you don't mind my saying so, I've heard you can catch a bear much quicker with honey."

"Well," he said wryly. "I've heard that, too." He laughed, "But I'm not sure I want to catch a bear; they're much too bad-tempered."

She smiled and shook her head. "What I mean is, if you want to prove you're Mister Khushrenada's son, don't you think you should be extra nice?"

So, she had already heard the story too. Sighing, Quatre spread his arms wide and looked at her. "This is me - they can take it or leave it. I don't intend to beg."

"Well… good luck, then. I only hope you won't need it." Cutting her eyes at him, she went silently from the room.

He locked the door, then undressed and stepped into the warm bath water. He could not resist the sigh of pleasure that escaped his lips. This was a luxury he rarely enjoyed - as the caravan always bathed in cold streams, or under freezing waterfalls - and it felt like pure heaven. He lay there a long while, letting the feel of it seep into his skin, before finally scrubbing himself clean. The water had already begun to cool when at last he emerged.

As he donned his trousers and a clean shirt, he felt infinitely better. What was so bad about being oneself? And how angry could Heero get, just because Quatre chose to wear his own clothes instead of a suit donated to him out of pity or spite? He walked down to the dining room feeling justified and hardly concerned at all with the arrogant man's reaction.

His confidence didn't last long.

When he had been told they would be dining in the family dining room, he had naively pictured a small, cozy atmosphere. He should have known that by his standards, nothing in the castle could be considered small or cozy. And he was completely unprepared for the grandeur of the family dining room any more than the number of people who were there. And every one of them, it seemed, turned slowly to look at Quatre as he stopped awkwardly at the doorway. The room was utterly silent, and he was aware only of the shock and dismay on their faces as their eyes moved over the strands of hair that always seemed to stray wildly from his gypsy's tail and the commoner's clothes he wore.

Only for a moment did he consider turning and running away. But then he saw darkened blue eyes staring at him from beneath lowered brows. Heero's look was coldly furious.

But, oddly, it was that look that spurred Quatre on and made him want to stay. He told himself quickly that if Treize Khushrenada was truly his father, then Heero Yuy would have no more authority over him. And that was something the blond could look forward to with relish.

He straightened his shoulders and strolled into the room, staring all the while at the faces about him. One by one they stepped aside as though he might somehow contaminate them. He hoped no one knew how grateful he was when Treize Khushrenada came forward and put his arm lightly over his Quatre's shoulders.

"My friends," the older man said with a slight quiver in his voice. "I asked all of you here tonight to introduce you to a very special young man, one who will brighten our home at Rosemont and bring a contentment that has been missing from my life for seventeen years." His hand tightened upon the blond's shoulder as he continued, "This is my son Quatre Raberba, who has finally come home to us."

There were gasps all around the room and looks of disbelief. Quatre saw a flicker of pain in Lady Khushrenada's dark eyes when she heard her husband speak of contentment, and the blond could understand her anguish. It had sounded as though Treize's years with her had meant nothing; Quatre knew she had interpreted it the same way.

Heero went to stand beside his mother, as though ready to console her. But she bravely smiled, acting as though she was in complete agreement with her husband's words. Quatre was curious about her, and about the strange relationship she had with his father. Was she, as Cathy had said, a miserable complaining woman who made her husband's life an agony? Or was she a woman trying hard to please him at any cost to herself?

Whatever the case, there was one thing Quatre could say for his supposed father. The older man seemed to have accepted him completely, without Heero Yuy's investigation, and Quatre could not resist a look of triumph toward the man who stared at him with such cool, disdainful eyes. Not only had Treize accepted Quatre as his son, but he seemed to care not one whit about the blond's way of dressing. And that certainly put him in a favorable light as far as Quatre was concerned.

"Let me make the introductions before we take our seats for dinner," Treize said.

Quatre looked around at the curious faces of the people gathered there. Heero and his mother moved to stand beside Treize Khushrenada. And Quatre had the feeling they were there to protect the older man from _him_, as much as to offer support. After all, everyone in the castle seemed to worry about his illness.

A tall gentleman immediately stepped forward and took Quatre's hand in his. The blond thought his look of welcome was genuine. He looked to be just shy of Treize's age; his skin was lightly flushed with a rose-bronze tan, and his long, unbound hair was platinum blond. He was a handsome man, and his manner was friendly. Perhaps it was his warm silver eyes that hid all and nothing as they gazed down at Quatre.

"_Bonjour_," he greeted in perfect French, and his hand briefly squeezed tighter around Quatre's own before letting go.

Quatre could feel himself grow warm beneath his collar, uncertain how to respond to the rolling purr he detected in the other's voice. But the man seemed charmed and amused by his embarrassment, giving a soft rumbling laugh.

"This, my boy, is an old and dear friend, Zechs Merquise," Treize chuckled. "He is a master winemaker from the Liore River region of France, near St. Nazaire. Heero persuaded him to come here only a few months ago, and already he has made vast improvements to our vineyards."

"Vineyards," Quatre echoed, realizing now what he had seen on his ride. "Of course… I saw them today. They're very exceptional."

The man quirked a slim eyebrow at Quatre. "Truly a Khushrenada," he commented softly. "No other in the world would have such an ingrained appreciation for the vines upon first sight. You must be proud indeed, Treize."

Quatre's father beamed as the man walked away to find a seat at the table. But the next face Quatre looked into was not quite so agreeable, nor so welcoming.

"This, son, is Dorothy Une. She is Hiromi's cousin."

Quatre smiled at the woman. She, like Heero, had startling blue eyes that looked him over boldly. She was an older woman, and the blond thought she might have been very attractive were it not for her haughty air and unflattering eyebrows. She was the only woman in the room who had not pinned her hair behind her head, as seemed the style, but instead let it fall in sleek blond cascades behind her back.

"How do you do?" She said in a cool, unfriendly way.

The next woman was not much warmer, although Quatre sensed a more pleasant manner about her. She stepped forward boldly and took his hand in both of hers, hardly waiting for an introduction. "I'm Missus Darlian, your nearest neighbor." Even as she spoke, she turned to a younger lady at her side, who seemed barely more than a girl. "And this is my daughter Relena."

For some unexplainable reason Quatre's heart sank when he looked at Relena. She was absolutely beautiful, with pretty sand-brown hair and smiling chalk-green eyes. She was a bit shorter than him, but with a delicate, willowy figure that would beg the attention of any young man. But she smiled at Quatre in such a sweet, welcoming way that he immediately recalled his manners and bowed slightly to her when she curtsied.

"I'm so happy you've come, Quatre Raberba," she said in a whispery little voice. "It shall be wonderful having a friend my own age nearby."

The offer sounded so very genuine, and Quatre returned her smile gratefully. "Thank you."

He was introduced to several other people, but by then his mind was in a jumble, and he doubted he'd be able to remember any of them.

As he took a seat beside his father he glanced toward the door and saw Wufei as he waited for them to be seated. With a little nod of recognition, he smirked at Quatre and then turned to open the door to summon the waiters who stood outside with carts of food.

Quatre was dismayed to find himself also seated next to the arrogant Heero Yuy, knowing he must have looked like a wretched little urchin by comparison. The blond suspected he'd never seen a man so elegantly dressed nor quite so devastatingly handsome. His wild burgundy hair was combed into some semblance of order, and dampened with some masculine-scented oil that put Quatre in mind of an ocean storm. His nearness made the blond very uncomfortable.

The huge array of food was unbelievable, and it looked and smelled delicious. But there were so many forks and spoons on either side of Quatre's plate… and when one of the waiters stood at his shoulder he was completely lost.

"Allow me," Heero said smoothly in a soft, low voice. With casual ease he reached toward the nearest silver platter. It was a heavily glazed meat dish.

"Vegetarian," Quatre swiftly hissed under his breath, cringing back from the platter.

With the barest quirk of his brow, Heero gave an infinitesimal nod of his head and moved on to the salads, placing a few selections on the blond's plate.

Quatre wasn't sure if he should feel grateful, or embarrassed. He glanced around, watching the others eat, then placed his hand to the side above the silverware, wondering which fork to use. He felt the lightest touch of Heero's hand as the darker man guided his fingers to the proper utensil. It happened so quickly that no one else was even aware of it.

Thankfully, conversation returned to the room and Quatre was no longer the center of attention. He began to relax a bit and even to enjoy the meal.

The man beside him, with only a slight turn of his head, spoke quietly. "Your stubbornness defies description," he said. The blond had seen the way Heero had looked at him earlier, and he knew the man was speaking of his refusal to dress up for dinner.

"I am only being myself," he shrugged, forcing a smile. "I will not pretend to be something I'm not."

"That is not the point," Heero muttered.

"Then what is the point? My obedience to you?"

He laughed, a hollow, whispered sound. "Where do you get such ideas? I think you have a great deal to learn about me… and about life."

"And _I_ think I am not as stupid as you imagine."

The darker man sucked in a quick, almost inaudible hiss of breath. "I never said you were stupid," was his tight response.

"Doesn't matter that you never said it. It's how you make me feel." Quatre glanced across the table and saw Lady Khushrenada watching them carefully. She was not pleased, and the blond wondered whether she could hear what was being said.

"Perhaps this is something we should discuss at another time," Heero said quietly, his voice once more in control.

For the briefest instant, Quatre wondered what the man would do if the blond shouted at him. He felt he would have enjoyed making a scene, simply because Heero was so careful not to. But, for once, he thought better of his first instincts. "I don't think we have anything to discuss," he said.

Heero turned to stare at him, and Quatre could almost feel the blaze of those fierce blue eyes burning into his skin.

"That's where you're wrong, urchin," he rasped quietly. "I may be the only one in this room who is not fooled by your charade. I think we have a great deal to discuss. And we will… _very_ soon."


	8. Chapter Eight

Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes**

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Eight**

When dinner was over, Quatre got up quickly to move away from the table - and those disapproving eyes. Relena Darlian was coming toward him. She had stopped just short, and he wondered if it was because she had overheard part of his exchange with Heero.

She glanced at his clothes, but not at all in a critical way. "I had a suit from my brother's old wardrobe altered and sent to you. Did you not like it? I understand it might no longer have been in fashion…"

Quatre immediately felt guilty. "N-no, it was very fine. And I did like it. But…" He glanced at Heero, who was now engaged in conversation with Zechs Merquise.

Relena followed his gaze and leaned forward to whisper quietly, "Is Heero giving you a bad time? Don't worry about him; he'll come around. I suppose it's understandable that he would be surprised to find the estate he loves so well might have to be shared with someone else."

"I hadn't even thought of that," Quatre murmured, glancing again at the darker man. "I thought he disliked me because he thinks I'm lying… about who I am."

There was an immediate sympathy in her green eyes. "Oh, don't mind him; he's hard to understand sometimes. Besides, I believe you." She paused, "Speaking of that handsome man, did you know that Lady Khushrenada and my mother have conspired to arrange a marriage between us?"

"M-marriage?" Quatre stammered. "Between you, and… and _Heero?_" Why that idea bothered him, he could not say. "W-well, you would certainly make a striking couple…"

"Yes… we would, wouldn't we?" Then she giggled, "I'm only teasing. I know it's impolite to boast about oneself."

"If I looked the way you do, I'd probably boast too," he said, with a grin toward her bubbly good humor.

"Are you _serious?_" She gushed, standing back a little to look at him. "You have _such_ a spark about you, Quatre Raberba… something I could not acquire in a hundred years. You fairly light up the room when you come in. Why, with the proper clothes you'd be the kind of man to bring the world to its _knees_."

"No," he shook his head, feeling himself grow warm beneath his collar.

"Yes!" She giggled, reaching her small hand forward to pinch him on the arm. "Don't you know that? Did you not see how _Monsieur_ Merquise looked at you? I mean, he is older, but he's such a man of the world." She looked at him suddenly with surprise, "Quatre Raberba… Haven't you ever had a lady on your arm? A beau?"

Glancing aside, the blond shook his head again. "I-I was a gypsy. We traveled by caravan. There was never an opportunity…"

"Then _we_ shall have to make the opportunity," Relena determined for his sake. And then she clasped her hands and laughed merrily, "Oh, this will be such fun. There's nothing I love better than shopping to entice an admirer. We shall transform you, Quatre."

He looked sharply up. "No. I intend to stay just as I am. I will continue to wear my own clothes. And if Heero… or anyone else… does not approve, then that's _their_ problem, not mine."

She stared at him, then cut a glance toward the man with the arresting blue eyes. "It isn't that anyone would disapprove… oh, Quatre Raberba, perhaps it's not wise for you to challenge Heero. Doesn't he frighten you when he gets so angry?"

"He is hot-tempered," Quatre frowned. "But of course I'm not afraid of him." He was surprised by her reaction. She was not the first to warn of Heero's temper, and he had even seen it directed at himself. The man was certainly intense. Intimidating, even. But…

"Why?" He asked. "Are _you_ frightened of him?"

"No, not really. But heavens, I can't imagine marrying a man like him. That's why I've told Mother to forget her matchmaking. I mean, doesn't he just make _chills_ run down your spine? I'm not denying his attraction. I think Heero is probably the most handsome man I've ever met. But he's so… so physical. So intense about everything. I'm not sure I'd even be able to converse with him once we'd exhausted the weather and our families. No, I much prefer a man who's fun-loving and mischievous, not quite so serious."

"Well, damn," Quatre teased with a grin. "And here I thought I was safe talking to you."

She giggled again, giving a delicate, feminine push at his arm. "How brash of you, to employ such language before a lady!"

He bowed, grandly, a bit of his gypsy's spirit rising to the fore. "Do forgive me, milady. A fool is as a fool does."

"I suppose he must be," Relena mused, smiling. "But of course, you see what I mean?"

"Yes," he sighed, his good humor dissolving in an instant. "I see."

Her words about Heero did indeed make chills run down his spine, for he could not imagine a woman preferring anyone else when having such a man was even the remotest possibility. Quatre's thoughts were a revelation to him - all along, he'd thought his response to Heero was fueled by dislike. And finding himself wrong was very puzzling.

Missus Darlian started toward them. With barely a glance to Quatre, she took Relena's arm. "You should be talking with Heero," she said, nodding in his direction.

"Mother…" Relena began with obvious annoyance.

"Well, have you spoken to him tonight? Did you tell him you'd bring a picnic tomorrow just for the two of you?"

"No, Mother, I'd prefer-"

"Then _I'll_ tell him." She turned with a wave of her hand toward Heero, even though Relena still protested. "Heero," Missus Darlian called. "Come here a moment, love."

With a nod of his dark head, he left _Monsieur_ Merquise and came toward them. "Good evening," he said to Missus Darlian and her daughter. His deep, serious voice sent a ripple of pleasure up Quatre's neck.

His conversation with Relena had left the blond confused, and now he was seeing Heero in an entirely new light. He could not stop staring.

Missus Darlian linked her hand through the man's arm. "Heero, dear, I was just telling Relena how lovely it would be if she were to bring a picnic tomorrow, just for the two of you."

He smiled, very wryly, and looked at Relena with amusement. "Tomorrow?"

"You haven't forgotten, have you? The charity picnic for the orphanage? The children will be here at the castle all afternoon tomorrow." Missus Darlian seemed fairly breathless with excitement.

"Ah," he said with another smile. "I'm afraid I _had_ forgotten." Then, with a teasing grin at Relena, he challenged, "Well, 'Lena? Are you planning to prepare my lunch with your own little hands?"

The look he riveted on her was powerful. And even though Quatre sensed he was teasing her, the blond could see how nervous it made her and did not doubt that Heero had done it deliberately. Quatre was beginning to understand a little of what she'd meant. Heero was so blatantly masculine with women, whereas Quatre was like a boy playing childhood games. Heero used his attraction like a weapon, and Quatre could see how much he enjoyed it.

That realization made the blond very curious. He wondered how it would feel to have a man like Heero Yuy look at him in just that way. Just the notion set his heart racing.

Relena actually blushed beneath that teasing blue-eyed gaze. "No, of course not. I wouldn't be caught dead in the kitchen."

"Relena!" Missus Darlian scolded, trying to disguise her frown at her daughter with a little laugh. "Pay her no mind, Heero. We'll be here at noon tomorrow with a picnic lunch." She quickly took Relena's arm; "I hate to leave so soon, but there's a storm coming, they say, and we need to get back to Darlian House if we don't want to be caught in it."

"Certainly," Heero said with a chivalrous little bow. "I'll look forward to lunch tomorrow, Relena… and to seeing you again."

With a look of chagrin, Relena moved away with her mother. Quatre smiled and waved at her as she gave a shrug of resignation.

"You shouldn't tease her like that," the blond hissed. "I was simply playing with her earlier, but _you_…"

Heero turned slowly to him with a lift of his brow and a spark in his fierce blue eyes. "What makes you think I was teasing?"

"You were. And you know you intimidate her."

"But I _don't_ intimidate you." His lips quirked humorously to one side, "Do I."

"No," Quatre said truthfully, meeting his gaze unfalteringly.

The darker man studied him for a moment, still smiling. "Then I suppose it would be a good idea if you came with us tomorrow. I'm certain Relena would be delighted with your company. And perhaps… less intimidated."

"Do I have to wear a suit?"

There was only a moment's surprise in his eyes, before he threw back his head and laughed. He was smiling at Quatre as he shook his head. "No, _warabe_. You have my permission to dress as you wish."

The blond smiled back at him, pleased that he had made Heero Yuy laugh. And there was the slightest hope in his heart that they might one day be friends.

The low rumble of thunder sounded through the castle, and someone mentioned the approaching storm. As the guests began to leave, Treize Khushrenada came to where Heero and Quatre stood.

He looked ill and his skin was very pale, but he was smiling as he drew near. He wrapped an arm around Quatre's shoulders, and the blond felt a tremor go through the older man. He looked up, startled. "You're cold… Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, my boy, more than all right. I'm only a bit tired. This has been a big evening for me, but an exciting one. Now, however, I think I will go up to bed. Heero, will you see my Quatre Raberba to his room?"

"Th-that's not necessary," he stammered. "I am perfectly able to find my room alone."

"Of course you are," Treize smiled. "But it's a stormy, windy night, and this old place can be a bit frightening if you're not used to it. There are all kinds of noises and sounds on nights such as this. So indulge me on this, my boy, and let Heero walk you to your room."

Heero had said nothing during this exchange. In fact, his look was one of disinterest, as though he did not care one way or the other.

"All right," Quatre sighed. "If it will make you feel better."

"Quatre Raberba," his father whispered. "Your being here makes me feel better - better than I have in years. And now that you're here, I intend to get well again, take better care of myself. It's something Heero has plagued me about for years. Isn't that right, son?"

Heero's smile of agreement was quiet and studied as he looked with affection at the older man. "That's right, Treize."

"Then, I'll say goodnight." He looked again to Quatre, "And I'll leave you in Heero's capable hands. Tomorrow I hope we can talk more."

"Yes," the blond nodded. "I'd like that, too."

Wufei came forward out of nowhere to help his employer, as did Lady Khushrenada. She looked quietly at her son, then took her husband's arm and walked with him through the door.

Quatre turned to Heero. "You don't have to…"

"Come along, _warabe_," Heero said quietly. "Let _nii-san_ tuck you in."

He smiled, despite that he could only guess at the translation behind the darker man's foreign words. He already suspected '_warabe_' was a mildly insulting nickname, the way Heero used it so frequently.

As they left the dining room and went along the dark corridors, Quatre was glad he had agreed to let Heero accompany him. The thunder had grown louder, and they could see the flash of lightning through the various windows along the way. The hallway to his room was dark, and there was a windy draft which whispered and sighed and set the candle flames to dancing eerily behind their glass chimneys.

He paused outside his room, but Heero ignored him and pushed the door open, walking in with his usual confidence. He turned back to Quatre where the blond stood uncertainly at the entrance.

"You may come in now. Just making sure there are no ghosts." His voice was all innocence. "And you have my word I'm perfectly harmless."

Quatre doubted that but said nothing, walking casually into the room as though the other's presence did not bother him in the least. And then his mind suddenly remembered something, completely out of the blue. "Heero," he wondered, "is it true about the black wolf, that he's an omen of some kind?"

"Who told you that?" Heero demanded, turning to look at him sharply.

"It doesn't matter, does it? Is the animal real, or is it supposed to be some kind of spirit…?"

"The animal is quite real. But this talk of omens and demonic witchery is nonsense."

"You sound so certain."

"I'm a practical man," he said. "And I've lived here most of my life; the castle and its surroundings hold no terror for me. It's my home."

"You love it here, don't you?"

Heero's eyes grew shadowed, and he glanced at Quatre warily, moving slightly away to stand near the windows. "Yes," he admitted quietly. His hands were in his pockets, and his back was toward Quatre as he gazed out at the storm-filled sky.

"You said you had lived here most of your life," Quatre said. "How long is that?"

"Oh, I don't know. I was probably three or four when we came here. I'm twenty-five now."

"Then you must have been here when… when my mother left," he prompted, his voice dropping to just above a whisper. "Do you remember her?"

Heero turned and stared at him for a moment, and his eyes changed, grew colder. "I was here when Leia Khushrenada disappeared, yes. And I certainly remember her. She was not the kind of woman one forgets, even a young boy who had yet to learn the local language."

Quatre hesitated, "I-I wondered… about _your_ mother. Why was she… why were you living here? And how did it happen that she married Treize?"

His lips tightened as he looked coldly at Quatre. The blond knew he had hit on something the darker man did not want to discuss. "I really must bid you goodnight now," Heero said, turning to go.

"Wait," Quatre cried, catching the other's arm as he passed. "What is it? If I said something I shouldn't, tell me."

"Look, Quatre… Quatre Raberba, whoever the hell you are. Treize is convinced you're his son only because he wants to believe it. I, on the other hand, will believe it only when my man Lowe returns with a report showing me absolute proof. Until then, I have no intention of supplying information which you can use to further ingratiate yourself into Treize's life. We can be pleasant to one another, as we were tonight. As long as we both know it's purely a pretense. And let me make it perfectly plain to you: I would not even do that were it not for Treize Khushrenada. Do I make myself clear?"

Quatre could not believe the change in him, or the cold gleam of his eyes in the candlelight. That look sent shivers straight to Quatre's toes, and he wondered how he could imagine they might be friends, even for a moment.

"Yes," he muttered, releasing the other's arm and stepping back. "You've made yourself perfectly clear."

"Good." Heero spun around and, without another word or look in the blond's direction, left the room.

Quatre locked the door behind him, just before his knees gave out and he collapsed to the floor. He told himself it didn't matter, even as he wrapped his arms about himself to silence his pounding heart and cease his trembling. All that mattered was finding out about his mother. And if Heero Yuy would not tell him, he would simply find others in the castle who would.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Nine**

That night he found out just how right Treize had been when the older man had spoken of the castle's strange noises. The storm struck before midnight with a fury he'd never heard before. At times the lightning lit the walls of his bedroom as brightly as sunlight, making it difficult to sleep. And the thunder rumbled and seemed to shake the very foundation of the big old castle.

Finally the rain came, pounding upon the rooftops and against the windows. And with the rain came the wailing winds. He could see the huge oaks bending and swaying crazily in the light of the storm.

Quatre was standing by the window, fascinated by the spring storm's terrible fury Suddenly he saw another light, a smaller one, and it was moving. It seemed to be in the tower. He had not asked what was in that tower, but he doubted it had any practical purpose. He certainly would not think anyone lived in that part of the castle. But as he stared that way, he could see the light moving upward, from window to window. Finally the windows at the very top lit up, and he could see the shadow of someone inside, moving slowly about, as if they paced the floor.

Odd. Quatre wondered who would be wandering around the castle on such a stormy night and at so late an hour.

Finally his skin grew chilled, and he slipped into the bed and between the sheets. As the storm lessened and the rain became only a pleasant drumming upon the roof, he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep.

~o~

When he woke next morning, the sky was still dark and the rain dripped from the eaves of the castle. As he lay in bed he wondered what would happen to the orphanage picnic if the rain did not subdue.

When Cathy came to ask whether he preferred to have breakfast with the family or in his room, the blond was uncertain. He'd not had very pleasant experiences with them, but he knew if he expected ever to fit in, this was one of the things he'd have to.

Quatre was disappointed to see that his father was not in the dining room when he came down; the older man's absence made him feel very much alone. Heero glanced briefly Quatre's way as he sipped his coffee. Lady Khushrenada and her cousin Dorothy exchanged glances, but said nothing. _Monsieur_ Merquise was the only one who seemed genuinely happy to see Quatre, and he stood and motioned to a chair so that the younger blond might sit beside him.

"Good morning," Quatre greeted, glancing around the table.

"Did the storm keep you awake?" Lady Khushrenada asked politely.

"Only for a little while," he said, smiling at her. He really wished they could be friends. "But I watched it for a while until sleep was unavoidable."

He did not like the way Heero looked at him - as though analyzing every word, waiting for Quatre to make a mistake. But Quatre could not resist a smile as he thought about it. He could not possibly make a mistake if he told the truth, and he had no reason to do anything else.

Heero seemed to take the blond's smile as a personal insult, and his steely blue eyes sparked with suppressed warning.

"Where is Treize this morning?" Quatre asked no one in particular.

Heero looked at him and then his mother. She stammered as she spoke. "He… Treize… has not been well, as you know. I'm afraid last night was too much or him. But he would like you to visit him today, if you have a free moment."

"I will," he said as he began to fill his plate with breads and fruits from the breakfast dishes. "Is there still going to be a picnic today?"

"Yes," the Lady said. "Are you going to participate?" She seemed surprised.

"I am." He glanced at Heero. "If… if that's all right."

"Oh, certainly," she said quickly. "I didn't mean to insinuate it was not." She put her fork down and looked at him with a sad little smile. "I'm sorry, Quatre Raberba, that our conversation seems so awkward. It's just that I hardly know what to say to you. Your… appearance has been somewhat of a shock to us all."

"I realize that," Quatre said. He was relieved that she was being honest with him. It was the first attempt at honesty from any of the family, besides the ones with Heero. The darker man had been quite candid from the beginning about how he felt about the blond. Quatre looked at him now as he spoke.

"I hope you will believe me when I tell you that I came here only to find my family. I would have done so if my father… if Treize had lived in a simple log cabin and was as poor as a churchmouse. I-I never had a family, except Rasid."

"But… your hair," Heero's mother ventured. "You're a gypsy, no? Do they not travel together?"

"Yes, in caravans. If one is lucky, he finds a family in that. But Rasid was the only one I'd felt close to… losing him made the absence of a true family all the more potent."

Hiromi Khushrenada's smile was sweetly sympathetic, but she glanced uneasily at Dorothy. The blonde-haired woman had not even bothered to look up from her meal. And there was a decided look of disinterest on her face.

"I, for one, don't see how anyone can dispute your claim." It was Zechs Merquise who spoke. "Anyone who knew Leia must see the remarkable resemblance right away."

"Th-thank you, _Monsieur_ Merquise," Quatre said, stammering over the French honorific. "I appreciate your kindness."

"Zechs," he corrected with a slight smile. "And you're welcome."

"I hope he doesn't resemble his mother in any other way," Dorothy spoke up with an arrogantly evil smirk toward Quatre.

"What do you mean?" The blond asked.

"I mean, my dear, that your mother was a tramp who broke her husband's heart. She was having a brazen affair with Rasid Darlian of the Darlian estate. He was Treize's closest friend and confidant, and she was the woman Treize adored. They both took advantage of his good nature!" Dorothy's look held bitter contempt, and Quatre wondered why she should react so vehemently about something that barely concerned her.

Hiromi's eyes were lowered, and Quatre felt such sympathy for the woman. How many times over the years had she heard of Treize's obsession with his first wife?

Quatre placed his fork on his plate, unable to continue eating. He clenched his jaw. It was true that he had not known his mother, but he felt this attack was as much on him as on her.

"Dorothy," Hiromi scolded. "You should not say such harsh things about Leia. She was a wonderful person. It was a long time ago, and Quatre Raberba is not responsible for his mother's actions."

"No," he said. "It's all right. I want to know." He turned to Heero, and saw that the darker man was watching him. "When I told Treize about Rasid Maguanac, that first night, why didn't he tell me? Rasid was the same man Treize was talking about, wasn't he? Rasid Darlian?"

Heero's eyes were shadowed, and as he leaned his elbow on the table, he placed his fingers thoughtfully against his lips. "Yes, he was. That does not mean, however, that I believe you are necessarily the son who left Rosemont."

"But why not? Doesn't it make sense to you?"

"You're forgetting one thing. Where is Leia? What happened to her? No, I think it more likely that she only used Rasid to help her escape a marriage that no longer held her interest. She soon tired of him and they parted company. I also think that Leia Khushrenada, wherever she is now, has Quatre Raberba with her, if the boy isn't already married. And furthermore, I think Rasid probably picked up some street urchin with the hope of passing him off as Treize's son."

"You mean me, don't you." Quatre stared at him in disbelief.

"Yes, I do. Unfortunately for Rasid, he died before he could carry out his charade."

Quatre pushed away from the table. "You're wrong! You don't know Rasid. He was the best of us; he was good, a-and decent, and…"

"Dear boy," Zechs interrupted. "Do not upset yourself with this. Wait until Heero has completed his investigation, and you will be vindicated, I am certain of it." He turned to the others at the table. "Is this really necessary, to upset the boy in such a way? Can you not see he honestly believes what this man has told him? How can you possibly hold him responsible?" He moved away from the table and held out a hand to Quatre. "Come. Let me take you out to the loggia for a breath of air."

As the blond awkwardly accepted the man's hand, Zechs turned a harsh look upon the people seated at the table. Then, gently as a gentleman with a lady, he pulled Quatre toward the door.

Neither of them spoke as they made their way through the castle and outside to the lower-floor loggia. The rain had dwindled to a fine mist that dripped from the castle and the trees. It mingled with a thin fog that hovered just above the ground and brought a quiet stillness to the land.

Quatre shivered and rubbed his arm. "Thank you, _monsieur_-"

"Zechs," he reminded, softly. "Please."

The blond flushed beneath his collar. "Zechs, then. And thank you, but I don't want to place you in a difficult position with the Khushrenadas."

"_N'importe_," he assured, lips tugging in a slight half-smile. "Treize and I are old friends, and his opinion is the only one that matters to me, except of course for Heero."

"Heero obviously doesn't want me here," Quatre sighed.

"But you must understand his position, and the life he had as a young boy. This place is everything to him."

"What _of_ his life? I asked him last night how he came to be living here when my mother disappeared, but he seemed… upset by the question, and would not discuss the matter."

"Of course, I was here only during my winter visits, or sometimes for a few weeks in the summer, when I could get away. But I could see what was going on even then. And I will tell you frankly, little Quatre, I am not certain to this day who was lying and who was not."

"Would you tell me about it? So that _I_ might understand?"

"Come," he said quietly. "Sit here away from the damp breeze, and we will talk."

Quatre did as he asked, sitting on a stone bench tucked into a sheltered corner of the long, walled porch.

"The problem started years ago," Zechs began, standing before the blond as he told the story. "When Hiromi Une-Yuy came here to work as a personal maid to Leia Khushrenada. Hiromi had a young son, Heero, rumored to be illegitimate - despite the addendum to her surname. She was devoted to the boy. She still is, of course. There were nasty rumors about her, and she did not enjoy the kind respect of many. She was often scornfully referred to as the '_Orientessa_.' As for Rasid Darlian, it is true that he loved Leia; there was little doubt about that. He adored her; one had only to be in their presence to see it. I knew it the first time I visited here and saw them together. But no matter what any of them say, I know how much Leia adored Treize and how deeply Treize loved her."

The man began to pace, speaking as though reliving those lost years. "Things began to happen, then, unexplainable things. Some blamed the Demon's curse, but…"

"The Demon?"

"Yes," Zechs paused. His brows lifted, "Ah, my apologies. Of course you would not know about such things. A man, strange-eyed and ghostly, who lived in the mountains beyond the vineyard - perhaps still does. The local people were frightened of him and said he placed a curse on the castle. Not that I believe a word of it. Anyway, there were rumors, misunderstandings between Leia and Treize. I always felt someone was involved - Rasid, perhaps - who wanted to cause trouble between them. But I don't believe it had anything to do with some demon." He paused again, waiting as though to determine whether Quatre was still following the tale.

"Go on," the blond urged.

"Treize began to believe the rumors about Leia and Rasid, although your mother denied them with all her heart. At the same time, there was talk that Treize had turned to Leia's maid, the _Orientessa_, for comfort. Leia was hurt - devastated, I would say. As a result, they both began to grow further and further apart."

"Was I here then?"

"Oh, yes. You were two or three years old, I suppose - and adorable as a cherub, as I recall. The accusations and bickering finally grew unbearable for Leia. She disappeared without a word to anyone. No one could believe she'd left her only child behind."

"Left me?" Quatre echoed. "But…"

"That is where Rasid came in. Two days later he disappeared, as did the child. Everyone supposed then that he and Leia were to meet somewhere. But the mystery was never really solved, nor either of them heard from again. Treize's many investigators turned up nothing… Then, _you_ came." There was nothing but sympathy as he looked at Quatre, and the blond glanced aside to hide that his eyes were stinging with tears.

"I don't remember my mother at all. Wouldn't I at least remember her?"

Zechs, too, glanced away, toward the mist-covered courtyard. "I do not know. I could never understand it myself, could never believe Leia would do such a thing. She loved you and your father more than life. I never believed she loved Rasid… not for one moment. She regarded him as a dear friend, perhaps a confidant, but… no, he was much too staid and settled for a vibrant woman like Leia." His voice trembled strangely as he remembered her.

"D-do you think she might still be alive?"

He shook his head. "Again, I do not know. I cannot fathom her ever leaving you. And yet, you say it was Rasid alone who raised you…" He sighed, turning to Quatre with a shrug of his shoulder. "Did Rasid say nothing else before he died? Anything that might help you discover the truth?"

"There was one thing," the blond frowned, trying to recall Rasid's last feeble words.

"Yes?"

"He said something about… asking _Duo_. That, _Duo knew_. But at the time, I had no idea what he meant. Do you know?"

Zechs frowned thoughtfully, but shook his head once more. "I fear not. But if this Duo was from around here, of course, I probably would not know anyway. As I have said, I lived in France and visited Rosemont only once or twice a year. But I shall ask around, see what I can find out."

Quatre nodded, lost in thought of Rasid and the dramatic changes that had occurred in his life since they'd come to the tranquil valley of Sanc. And now the mystery that surrounded his mother's disappearance began to eat at him, and he wanted more than anything to find her and learn why she had left Rosemont… and why she had left _him_.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Ten**

He sat for a while after Zechs left, and watched the fingers of mist that played about the huge oaks. It looked as though it would be a miserable day for a picnic, but Quatre supposed the castle was big enough to accommodate some kind of indoor activity for the children.

But the morning's events had not left him in much of a mood for the festive day. What was he to do? And how was he ever to convince anyone at Rosemont of who he really was? Especially the inscrutable Heero Yuy. After all, there were times when even Quatre did not feel so certain. He remembered the poignancy and the immediate affinity he'd felt when seeing his mother's portrait for the first time. He had been so certain then, if only for a little while, and as he thought of it he decided to venture again to the room where he'd first met Treize and seen the portrait.

He needed the comfort of seeing her again, of seeing his own features mirrored in her own. Perhaps it would banish the vision of Heero's face and the doubt he saw every time he looked into those eyes.

The door to the room stood open. Quatre stopped, wondering if anyone was inside. He stepped softly across the threshold and saw Treize Khushrenada standing before the portrait Quatre had come to find.

One hand was clutched to the older man's heart, and the other hung limply at his side. A drink of some kind was held haphazardly, tilted as though its contents might spill at any moment onto the floor. And as he stood silently Quatre could hear the soft murmur of Treize's voice, almost a moan, in the quiet room.

"Where did you go, my sweet? Why did you leave without a word? Your beautiful face has haunted me all these years, and I can find no peace without you. And now our boy is here… I know he is Quatre Raberba, no matter what anyone else might say. I see you in every quirk of his brow, in the innocence of every smile."

Quatre felt like an intruder, but he could not turn away. Treize's words brought a small ache to the hollow of his throat, and he wanted to comfort his father. But there was something that kept him rooted where he stood. Treize was drunk; Quatre could see it in the sway of the older man's thin body and hear it in the slurring of his words. It angered Quatre more than he'd have thought possible, and strangely the blond felt offended. Not because of the disrespect to his mother, but because of his casual treatment of Hiromi. One had only to look into her eyes to see how much she loved her husband. Quatre wondered how she had stood it all these years, seeing Treize grieve and drink himself into oblivion for his first wife.

Treize began to cry and the drink fell from his hand, spilling with a soft thud onto a rug. "Oh, Leia, I loved you - God, how I loved you." He dropped to his knees and bent forward, placing his hands on the floor.

Without thinking, Quatre went to him and picked up the glass, afraid his father might fall on it and hurt himself. Quatre placed his hand beneath the man's arm and tried to help his father to his feet. "Here, Treize," he said. "Let me help you. Can you stand?"

"Wha… what are you doing here?" He demanded, turning to stare angrily at Quatre. "Go away; leave me alone! Just let me grieve in peace."

But Quatre continued to pull at his arm, however ineffectively. "Don't you think you've grieved long enough?"

Treize stared at him as though he did not understand. Then, with an awkward swipe at him, the man fell to his side. Quatre knew he never be able to do this alone. He went to the doorway and looked about, but he saw no one. He ran to the top of the stairs and called loudly. "Mister Chang? Wufei, are you there? I need you up here right away."

Without waiting, he ran back into the room. Treize still lay on the floor, panting for breath. His eyes were closed and his skin was pale and clammy.

Wufei came into the room, striding swiftly across the floor. "What happened, young sir?" He said, barely fighting to recapture his breath.

"I found him here before the portrait, talking to her and crying. When he saw me, he became angry and shouted and finally collapsed."

"Damn," Wufei muttered. "Back on the bottle. He did manage to stay sober long enough to meet you, though, didn't he?"

The blond could only nod, feeling immensely guilty for his father's sake.

"He'll need to sleep it off. Help me get him to the bed; he'll be all right."

Just then Quatre heard heavy footsteps coming quickly down the hallway toward them. He didn't look up, instead focusing on helping Wufei move his father toward the bed.

"_What_…?"

It was Heero, and Quatre didn't have to look up into his blazing eyes to know how upset he was. Quickly and efficiently Heero moved to Treize, practically pushing Wufei and Quatre aside as he grasped the older man and pulled him from the floor and onto the bed.

He straightened and turned to glare first at Quatre and then at Wufei. "You shouldn't be here now. Treize is sick and needs to rest."

Quatre stared at him, amazed that the darker man thought he was so gullible that he would believe such an excuse. "He isn't sick, Heero. He's drunk."

He turned from the blond's accusing eyes and pulled a cover over Treize's now unconscious form. Heero's jaw was tight where a muscle flexed erratically. Quatre was unnerved by the potential violence he saw in the man's every movement.

"Shall I get Lady Khushrenada?" Wufei asked.

"Yes, Wufei, please," was all Heero said. Still he would not turn and face the blond.

But as soon as Wufei was out of the room, Heero whirled, looking for all the world as though he would like to toss Quatre out the door. "What did you do to upset him?" He accused.

"I've done nothing. He was in this condition when I came into the room." He fisted his hands at his side, "And don't think I'll stand quietly and let you blame this on me. From what I understand, he has been in this state for most of the past seventeen years… since my mother left." He didn't hide his annoyance. There was too much of that in the castle already.

"You are an impudent little…" The man took a deep breath in a noticeable effort to control himself.

"You can't deny it, Heero."

"I will not defend him to the likes of you," he said coldly. "And I don't intend to let a little fraud like you come into this castle and tell any of us what to do."

"You've made that clear enough, already," Quatre hissed, just as coldly.

"I would advise you to go downstairs as if nothing has happened. Relena has arrived, and she's asking for you. There is no reason to alarm the entire household because of this."

His eyes were wintry clear. Quatre could almost believe at that moment that Heero hated him. He glanced quickly at the portrait of his mother and himself; that one moment was all he needed. It was almost as though he could feel her presence, could sense her encouragement. She looked so beautiful, so tranquil, that Quatre found his spirits buoyed just by looking at her. And he would not let Heero Yuy push him away, now that he was so close to finding his home and his family.

"Perhaps I should stay here with him," the blond said, nodding toward Treize.

"My mother and I are perfectly capable of caring for Treize. We've done so for many years now." He sounded cold, and completely uncaring of Quatre's feelings.

"Do you think protecting him when he's like this, and allowing him to continue feeling sorry for himself, is taking care of him?" Quatre asked, suddenly angry again at his indifference.

Heero stepped toward him, but Quatre did not waver. Despite the other's frosty and ferocious manner, he knew that Heero would not dare hurt him.

"Tread carefully, _warabe_," Heero warned. "My patience is not infinite."

"That is an understatement," he muttered.

Over his shoulder, Quatre saw Hiromi coming into the room. She frowned slightly as she looked at her dark, handsome son. "Heero," she said, a little tremor of alarm in her accented voice. "What is going on? Why are you threatening Quatre?"

He turned slightly toward her, but looked again at the blond as he spoke. "Threatening? Why, Mother, I would never threaten another gentleman."

Quatre knew, even if Hiromi did not, that Heero was deliberately baiting him. It was Heero's way of refusing to acknowledge Quatre as anyone of importance.

Hiromi Khushrenada turned to her husband on the bed. "Oh, Treize," she said sadly with a shake of her head. "I had hoped, Quatre, ever since you came, that he would…" There were tears in her eyes as her voice trailed away.

"Have you ever tried to make him stop drinking?" Quatre asked.

"Make him? Why, no, I would not think of making Treize do anything. Besides, he suffered such a great loss, and I've always tried to understand…"

"But how can you be expected to understand?"

"Well, I…" She glanced uncomfortably at Heero, likely hoping for his intervention.

"Don't both of you think his grief should have ended long ago?" Quatre demanded of them.

"What an odd thing for you to say, gypsy," Heero said sarcastically. "It seems you would be happy if he still grieved for your mother." He quirked a dark eyebrow, as though expecting to have won another strategic point.

"You really believe I have no heart, don't you, to think that of me! And let's talk about _you_, while we are on the subject. Don't you despise what this has done to your own mother, to her life? What about her suffering all these years, married to a man who cares for nothing except his own indulgences, his own misery!"

"You don't have any idea what you're talking about," he said quietly.

But this time Quatre saw a spark of doubt deep within those beautiful blue eyes, and he knew he'd struck a chord. He suspected Heero's defense of Treize was because of his own gratitude and loyalty. And even though Hiromi loved Treize, perhaps hers was because of gratitude as well. After all, had they not lived a terrible existence before coming to Rosemont? Perhaps it was her guilt that made her accept his treatment of her. Could she actually think she deserved this treatment? Quatre stared into her eyes, wishing he could know the real truth of it, but he doubted he ever would.

She looked at him with a sad note of apology. "Perhaps Heero is right, Quatre. You should go downstairs now. Find Relena and try to enjoy the afternoon with the children. I'll take care of Treize."

"If you think I must," he sighed. "But I can promise you, this is something I intend to speak to Treize about as soon as he's able to listen."

She only shook her head and turned back to tend to her husband. Quatre could not halt the thought that the scene before him was such a waste. She was still a beautiful woman, and he wondered why she had been so willing to give up her own life to tend to a man who obviously didn't care.

He was not surprised when Heero followed him out into the hallway. His hand moved quickly, clamping Quatre's arm and pulling the blond around to face him.

"I won't have her upset," he growled softly.

"Heero… I have no intention of hurting your mother. I want to help her. Why can't you see that?"

"_Why_ can't I see it?" He echoed with a hint of derision. "Perhaps it's because I don't trust you. Perhaps I don't want to see her hopes raised only to have them dashed when she discovers you're not who you claim to be."

"I claim nothing," Quatre said, sharply. "I'm perfectly willing to let your investigator decide who I am, if that's what you want."

"It's what I want. As a matter of fact, he should be here within the week. You might not be so confident once you hear what he has to say."

"Why?" He asked, probably more quickly than he should have.

Heero's lashes dipped as he let his eyes wander down Quatre's body and back again. Then he laughed. "Why, _warabe_, you sound worried."

"I'm not worried. And I can't wait to see that smug look wiped from your face when you have to hear the truth."

He smiled and made a mock groaning noise. "You are such a tough little urchin. I wonder what you're hiding beneath that vagabond exterior. And there's something else that I've wondered about…"

"What?" Quatre snapped. "What could you possibly want to know about me?"

Heero pulled the blond closer against the length of his body. "I wonder… what you would look like out of those ridiculous servant's clothes." His voice was a mocking whisper.

Quatre jerked away from him as though the man had struck him. He could feel his face growing hot, could feel the heat of his skin through the clothes where Heero's body had touched him. The darker man looked at him with a challenging smirk; his eyebrow lifted as he dared the blond to match wits with him. But for once Quatre could think of no comeback.

He spun around, walking away as quickly as he could without giving in to the instinct to run. Even so, he could hear Heero's soft laughter behind him. All he wanted at the moment was to be away from the man, away from the intensity of those blue eyes, and the mockery that was always on Heero's face when he looked at Quatre.

No man had ever looked at him in just that way. He didn't know how to defend himself against it, or the storm of feelings it brought rushing over him.


	11. Chapter Eleven

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Eleven**

He hurried down the stairs, almost colliding with Relena, who was just coming into the entry hall. She was surrounded by children who laughed and chattered loudly.

"Quatre Raberba," she gasped with surprise as she came to a sudden stop.

"Relena," he said, trying to catch his breath. "I-I'm sorry, I didn't see you…"

"I can see that," she sympathized, before turning to quiet the children. "Is anything wrong? You look as though the devil himself is after you."

He glanced quickly up the stairs. Heero stood at the top of the landing, his hand resting casually on the railing. His eyes were hooded and dark as he watched them for a moment before turning to go back into the room where Treize Khushrenada lay.

Relena followed Quatre's glance, and her eyes widened curiously. "Oh, I should have guessed," she said. "It's Heero."

"Yes," he fumed. "Heero. I don't know why that man exasperates me so. I keep promising myself that I won't let him goad me into another quarrel, and yet every time I see him it happens all over again."

"I did warn you that he can sometimes be rather overwhelming when he wants to be. But honestly, Quatre Raberba, he is a very nice man. He's a devoted son to Hiromi and to your… to Treize."

Quatre felt a little stab of pain at her failure to use the word _father_. "So you don't believe me either?"

"Oh, it isn't that. Not at all." She placed a comforting hand on his arm. The children were growing restless, a few of them tugging at her skirt. "Here, let's take the children in to the ballroom. Hiromi has said we might play games inside since the rain has not stopped."

They could hardly hear above the shouts and laughter as they walked down a hallway toward the ballroom. The children ran with abandon into the very long narrow room.

"This is the most elegant room in the castle," Relena said. "In fact, it's the most elegant room I've ever seen. The ceilings are forty feet high, and these hardwood floors are kept so highly polished, you can see yourself in the shine."

The shouted echoes of the children rang across the empty expanse of bare wood. Relena and Quatre sat on the floor and allowed the children to dance and play for a while as they talked.

"Let me explain about earlier," Relena pleaded, seeming eager for him to understand. "It's my mother. You see, I have to be so cautious with her, and it was only second nature that I'd be careful with my words… where Treize Khushrenada is concerned."

"Because of Rasid?"

"Yes. Rasid was my uncle," she revealed with a solemn nod of her pretty head. "Of course, I don't remember him. But Mother was very hurt by what he did, and she won't allow anyone in our home to mention his name. She and Leia - your mother - were best friends."

"I see…"

"Rasid was my father's brother. I was only a baby when Father died, and I understand Rasid was very devoted to Mother. She told me once that she didn't know how she would have managed the estate without him. And when he left, running away in the midst of a scandal, with Mister Khushrenada's wife… well, you can imagine how Mother must have felt."

"Yes," he sighed. "The whole thing seems to have caused nothing but heartache for everyone. But I wish… I wish I could ask your mother about her, about _my_ mother."

"I'm sorry, Quatre," she murmured, placing a hand on his arm. "I don't think that would be a good idea. Perhaps after she's come to know you better…"

One of the children ran up to them and took Relena's other hand. "Miss Relena… Miss Relena. Can we play a game now?"

She smiled sweetly at the little girl. "Yes, of course we can." Glancing at Quatre with a shrug of her slender shoulders, she stood. "Come join us, Quatre Raberba."

He became caught up in the games with the children. They seemed so starved for any kind of attention or affection that Quatre felt an immediate empathy with them. One of the younger girls, a little sprite of a thing with short red hair of a prettily bold red color, stood away from the others, the toes of her scuffed black shoes held tightly together. She was small and delicate, and she had curled her fingers into the neck of her dress as she watched the other children playing.

No one seemed to be paying attention to her, so Quatre went to her to urge her to join the others. She stepped away from him, and still would not look up.

"What's your name?" He asked softly. He didn't want to upset her any further.

She didn't answer, but swung her body back and forth in a shy little manner that almost broke his heart. He knelt down before her and took her free hand, making a slight performance of bending his head over her fingers to peck them with a soft kiss. "My name is Quatre," he said. "Would you like to play the game with us?"

She shook her head, still not speaking, and not meeting his gaze. Even the faint dusting of rose on her small cheeks caused his heart to ache for her, and he wondered what kind of life the poor little thing had lived.

He leaned very slowly forward, still careful not to scare her. "You're very pretty," he whispered into her ear as though sharing a secret. "Did you know that?"

As he drew away, she met his gaze for the first time, her eyes a clear blue color that took him by surprise. The glance was very brief, but he knew he had reached some small distant part of her.

"Will you join us?" Quatre asked one more time.

She nodded slightly, and in an endearing little gesture tightened the fingers of the hand he still held around his own. He watched her as she tried to play with the other children. She seemed awkward and ungainly, as though her shyness translated into a physical handicap, and as the others laughed and shouted, the little girl remained solemn and unsmiling.

The servants moved long tables into the elegant ballroom and began to place dishes of food upon them. Quatre was surprised to see Dorothy and Missus Darlian helping to carry the food into the room.

Missus Darlian looked skeptically at him with a brisk nod, one more of dismissal than of greeting. "Relena," she said. "We've brought damp towels. Have the children wash their hands before we eat."

The rowdy gang lined up as Relena and Quatre both stood with wet towels to wash their damp, grimy little hands. The shy little girl stood at Quatre's side afterward as though she didn't want to leave, and he did nothing to discourage her.

When Heero strolled casually into the room a few moments later, Quatre's heart suddenly forgot how to function properly. He had to remind himself just how cruel the darker man could be. Still, it didn't seem to lessen the impact his handsome form had on the blond's senses.

He had dressed down for the occasion, with his shirt opened halfway to reveal his burnished chest. His hands were tucked into his pockets, and he looked very much at ease with himself.

Heero looked with an assessing little nod toward Relena and Quatre. Then he took his hands from his pockets and came slowly toward them.

Relena looked demurely away as he approached. But Quatre, with his lack of social graces, watched the other's every movement, each confident step he took. He walked with a proud grace, his confidence unmistakable, as though he were accustomed to drawing the focus of every man or woman in the room.

"Good afternoon," he said. His tone of voice and the placid look on his face gave no indication of his earlier anger toward Quatre. But, of course, the blond had not forgotten Heero's warning that they would carry on an elaborate _pretense_ at friendliness.

"Good afternoon, Heero," Relena smiled.

The little red-haired girl moved closer to Quatre, clasping his leg and burying her face against him as she peeked around at Heero.

Seeing the child's movement, Heero smiled down at her. His blue eyes, far darker than hers, crinkled at the corners, and Quatre thought he'd never seen such potent masculinity as was in that smile. Oddly, it was not lost on the beautiful child, and for the first time she smiled too.

Quatre looked at her, offering a smile of his own. "You're even prettier when you let the world see it," he whispered to her, before looking up to meet Heero's gaze. "Thank you. That's the first she's smiled all day."

"You sound surprised," Heero replied in his usual mocking tone of voice. "Perhaps not everyone regards me in the same light you do."

As hard as he tried, Quatre could not think of a clever response. By then Heero had taken Relena's arm to lead her toward the bounty of food.

The little girl would not leave Quatre's side during lunch. He helped her with her food and sat with her on the floor as they ate. Glancing out the long, sparkling windows of the ballroom, he could see that the weather still had not cleared. He wondered what other entertainment they could find for the children.

"Good," the little girl said suddenly, looking at him with her bright, shining blue eyes.

His own eyes widened at her first words, and he laughed. "Yes," he agreed. "It's very good. Are you having fun today?"

She nodded and went back to her eating.

"You know," he gently cajoled. "I really wish I knew your name. If I decided to visit the orphanage I wouldn't know who to ask for." He waited quietly, mentally crossing his fingers.

"Mariemeia," she said in a breathless little voice. He could see what an effort it was for her to let him into her small world.

"Mariemeia," he smiled. "That's a beautiful name. So original. You must feel so special."

She moved closer to him, and they ate in companionable silence. They were not far from where Relena and Heero sat. There were children around them, and Quatre thought with a pang of envy that they made the perfect couple. It seemed so natural seeing Relena with the children gathered about her.

But Heero's attention was captured by the girl beside Quatre. He watched her, and once, as Quatre glanced at him, the darker man's blue eyes were on _him_.

The blond was sure he must have looked curious, but Heero only smiled that enigmatic smile of his and focused his attention again on Relena and the other children.

After they had eaten, Missus Darlian came to gather all the children for a game of hide-and-seek. Mariemeia rested her head against Quatre's arm, making no movement to go with them.

"Wouldn't you like to go too, Mariemeia?" He asked.

"No," she whispered. "They won't let me."

Quatre tried to rein in his frown, careful not to scare her after all the progress they'd been making. "Who won't let you?"

"I'm clumsy and… and slow. No one wants me for a partner."

Missus Darlian stood above them, waiting for the child to go with the others. She looked with kindness at Mariemeia, something Quatre had not seen in her resentful glances toward him.

"You don't need a partner for hide-and-seek," he encouraged, gently sweeping the child's vibrant red strands behind her ear. "And you don't have to hurry. I'll bet you can find the best hiding place."

"That's right, Mariemeia," Missus Darlian said with a gentle smile. "Come along. It will be fun."

Reluctantly and with a wistful glance back at Quatre, the little girl rose and went with her.

As they trooped from the room, Relena breathed a loud sigh of relief. "Ah, peace and quiet at last," she giggled. "I think I shall use the opportunity to eat a piece of chocolate cake in silence. How about you, Quatre Raberba?"

He smiled in the face of her enthusiasm. "No. None for me."

Heero sat on the floor, one leg stretched out before him and the other knee drawn toward his chest. His arm was flung casually across his knee as he watched Quatre cautiously. "Mariemeia likes you," he said quietly. "You seem to have a way with children."

Quatre didn't answer him. Charming children was a skill valued amongst gypsies, but if the blond admitted that to Heero, he was certain the darker man would read something less honorable into it.

"You're very good, you know that?" Heero continued when Quatre did not rise to his bait.

The blond sighed. "What do you mean?"

"Well, it could mean you were well trained, or it could mean you simply have a knack for deception. I haven't yet decided which."

Quatre shifted forward immediately, intending to get up from the floor. He would not sit quietly and let Heero Yuy mock him again. But the other man was quick to catch his arm in a hard grasp, holding him in place.

"Let go of me," the blond murmured. He was breathing heavily, and he could feel the throbbing of his heart in his throat. Heero's hand was warm, burning through the sleeve of Quatre's shirt; he was so close Quatre could detect the same masculine scent he remembered from the dinner party the night before.

"Let go," he whispered again.

Relena stood at the table, chatting with Dorothy and enjoying her chocolate cake. No one in the room seemed to take notice of the two sitting on the floor.

But despite Quatre's warning, Heero's hand remained clamped firmly on the blond's arm. Quatre's eyes stung wetly, and he struggled to banish the oncoming tears. Seeing Mariemeia had brought it all back - all the hurts of his own childhood. He had been the only child in Rasid's caravan; he understood how hard it was, always being on the outside, never being wanted. The blond could not help it, for as much as he wanted to despise the man beside him, he desperately wanted Heero's approval and acceptance.

"I was only going to suggest that you continue your friendship with Mariemeia. She's had a very destructive childhood, and when she came to the orphanage, she had been badly mistreated. She trusts very few people, but she seems to be drawn to you." The darker man's disturbing eyes would not leave him for a second.

Quatre glanced away. "I'm not so certain it wasn't _I_ who was drawn to _her_. Rasid always used to warn me about the magnetic responses of kindred spirits…" He clamped his mouth shut quickly, for he had not intended to give away anything so personal about himself - he definitely did not want Heero to think Quatre needed his pity. Yet, as he looked up, the tears he had been fighting back at last escaped.

Heero frowned, cocking his head as though something disturbed him. His hand loosened from the blond's arm and with a quick caressing movement he brushed the tears from Quatre's cheeks.

Then, as suddenly as it had happened, the moment was gone. He laughed, a soft derisive sound only the two of them could hear, as he whispered huskily, "_Shimatta_, little gypsy. You really are quite good at this. I almost believe you myself."

With a swift, fluid movement he was gone, leaving Quatre to sit alone on the floor, more bewildered than ever by Heero's strange words and his power to disturb Quatre's thoughts.


	12. Chapter Twelve

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twelve**

Quatre got up from the floor and went to the table where Relena was speaking to Dorothy. "Do you mind if I leave now, Relena?" He asked, trying to smile as though nothing was wrong. "I think I'll go to the stable and check on Sandi."

"Of course not," she said, turning as though to seek approval from the solemn-faced blonde woman beside her. "After this last game, the matrons from the orphanage will take the children home. I think we can handle everything until then, don't you, Dorothy?"

"_Hai_," the woman said curtly. "Go on to your horse… or whatever it is you wish to do. At least you are dressed for that." Her thin lips curled as her eyes wandered disdainfully over his clothes, before she turned away, making a pretense of straightening the table.

Relena looked at Quatre solemnly as she whispered, "You go ahead, Quatre Raberba. Don't mind Dorothy; she's always moody."

He nodded, not wanting to speak for fear of saying something he shouldn't. And that was the last thing he wanted to do in front of Relena Darlian, who was putting in such an effort to be his friend.

He hurried out into the main hallway and on impulse turned toward the kitchen. Suddenly Sally's welcoming smile seemed exactly what he needed. For once she was not working, but was sitting at the table with one of her helpers.

"Well, if it ain't our little Quatre… or should I say Quatre Raberba?" Sally's face held a broad grin. "Come and sit down. Do you have any idea what a ruckus you've caused in this big old castle, young man?"

Quatre smiled wanly, not knowing what to say. But at least whatever Sally had to say, she said plainly and in the open.

The other cook, a young girl not much older than he, rose and poured a cup of tea. The aroma drifted up in a warm, pleasant mist, and Quatre felt comforted. The blond sat across from them and sipped the hot, fragrant brew. "Yes," he muttered. "I'm all too aware of the ruckus, Sally."

"Well, there's no need to look so low, lad," she said with a teasing smile. "It will take time, but everyone will come around. Why, they say Master Khushrenada is practically on air, having his own son back home."

"Yes, so I thought, until…" He glanced across at the girl, who looked discreetly away.

"Oh, we heard about this morning. But don't you concern yourself over that. Master Khushrenada stayed sober longer this time than he has in years. And I think with you here he's going to be just fine."

News certainly traveled fast in the big castle. Quatre wondered what else they had heard. Did they know how rude Dorothy had been, or that Heero and himself always quarreled? He took another sip of tea and pushed himself away from the table.

"In case anyone asks for me, I'm going riding."

"All right, lad," Sally smiled gently. "But be careful out in this weather. Wouldn't want you to get lost your first week here."

Quatre, glimpsing the concern in her eyes, vowed solemnly, "I won't go far."

He left through the kitchen courtyard and into the narrow strip of trees that separated the castle and grounds from the stable. The fog still hung low over the land, causing moisture to cling to the tree limbs and bushes. For a moment Quatre felt he was the only person on earth, isolated and alone in a dark, gloomy forest.

He hurried on to the stable and found Trowa working in one of the stalls.

"Afternoon, Trowa," the blond said, picking up a bridle as he moved past the man through the stable.

He looked up with a smile and a nod. "Afternoon, sir. Come to visit your little filly?"

"I thought I'd take her out for a short ride."

Trowa immediately stopped what he was doing and stared at Quatre. "I-I don't think that's such a good idea. The weather's bad, and-"

"I like riding in dreary weather," the blond told him lightly, as he moved toward the back of the stable. "Besides, I don't plan on being gone long."

"But sir, please… wait!" Trowa put down the pitchfork and came forth. "You saw the black wolf, remember? Maybe you should be careful for a day or two, stay close to the castle. Not that I really believe in the curse, but…"

"But what, Trowa?" Quatre asked, growing impatient with everyone's advice.

"But there must be something to it," he said with an exasperated sigh. "You see, every time that animal appears, something bad happens here at the castle."

"I don't believe in such nonsense. And I'm going for that ride."

Trowa sighed and shook his head. But seeing that Quatre meant what he said, the man turned and went reluctantly back to work. "Mister Yuy will have my head," he muttered as he walked away.

Quatre supposed that was what cemented his decision for him. He wasn't going to let the high-and-mighty Mister Yuy run his life. Besides, he missed Sandi, and when she saw him coming the mare nodded in anticipation, and Quatre knew she missed him too. It was like a greeting from an old friend, and for a moment he forgot the rest of household and the resentments of its old assortment of residents.

He slipped the bridle over Sandi's head, not bothering with a saddle. As he led her past Trowa, the man looked at him and the unsaddled horse in horror.

"I'll be back before you know it," Quatre smiled. He didn't doubt that the man's concern was genuine, but he did find it somewhat amusing.

Sandi was skittish, and as soon as Quatre was on her smooth back she trotted away toward the dirt road. He held her steady, letting her gather speed only gradually. The bad weather obscured the path, and he didn't want to take the chance of her stepping into an unseen hole and injuring herself.

The trees along the roadway were shrouded in the late afternoon mists. There was absolutely no wind, and the limbs stood still and silent, like hundreds of waiting ghosts. He shivered, trying to throw off the sobering effect of such whimsical thoughts, and urged Sandi along until they were past the trees and into the open spaces of the vineyard.

They slowed then, walking easily, Sandi's hoof beats quiet and muffled in the damp mists. But already Quatre was feeling better, just being away from the looks, the constant condemnation of those at the castle.

This was where he's seen the wolf. But that didn't bother him now; he was too intent on the vines and the peace and beauty he felt each time he saw the long, symmetrical rows of greening plants.

Suddenly Sandi stopped. She snorted and began to shake her head.

"What is it, girl?" He bent forward to rub her ears.

She reared suddenly, and Quatre was caught completely off guard. With no saddle to hold him he slid easily down her back and across her haunches to land with a thud on the ground.

Sandi had never thrown him. But the blond could see the fear in her eyes and in the wild tossing of her head. He quickly got to his feet, glancing uneasily about them as he stepped toward the dangling bridle. Sandi shook her head and skittered away from him.

Then Quatre heard it; the low, menacing growl of the wolf. He heard it before he actually saw anything, and it filled him with a dreadful fear. He felt a tingling at the back of his neck as he whirled around.

He saw it then; the wolf was very close, just coming out of the blanket of fog. Its eyes were focused directly on Quatre as it crept slowly forward in a crouched position. The blond could not fight the helplessness that swept over him as he stared into the animal's huge dark eyes. He couldn't move, couldn't think what to do. And all the while the animal crept closer, pausing between steps to glance from Quatre to the frightened mare.

Quatre took a careful step backward, looking toward the few trees near the end of the vineyard for a means of escape. But he knew if he bolted, the wolf would be upon him. Still he had to take a chance; he couldn't just stand helplessly and wait for an attack.

He heard a shrill whistle, and the wolf's head came up. It sniffed at the air and its eyes changed, growing more alert. But it didn't come any closer to Quatre or Sandi. Then, oddly, its tail began to swing back and forth, in an almost friendly manner. Yet Quatre realized the change was not for him, but rather for something or someone past the stream at the foot of the ridge.

What the blond saw there was even more unnerving than the wolf. It looked like a spectre from beyond any world he'd ever known. Quatre was a long way from it, but he could clearly see a mass of long cinnamon hair that gleamed almost red under a rare sliver of sunlight, and skin paler than his own. It wore matted, torn clothes of faded black, giving the illusion of something that had risen from the ground. And even though Quatre sensed it looking at him, he could see no eyes in its waxen face. The blond knew it was the Demon; he was unable to stop a tremor as he waited, expecting some signal that would prompt the wolf to attack.

Instead, he heard a voice which sounded quite normal, and younger than he would have expected. "Shinigami," it shouted. "Come!" It raised one tattered-sleeved arm and motioned the large animal toward itself.

The wolf turned away from Quatre and, with a bound of excitement that sent dirt flying from its paws, flew toward the spectre in the mists.

Quatre watched, fascinated and unable to make himself move, until the wolf reached its master. The Demon placed one hand on the magnificent animal's head and, with a look over its shoulder at Quatre, turned and disappeared into the shadowy forest.

The blond stood for a long while, staring at the spot where the Demon had been. It seemed incredible that the Demon should exist at all, and for a moment he wondered whether the mists and shadows had made him imagine the whole thing.

Sandi came to him at last, nuzzling gently with her warm nose. Of course the Demon was no illusion; Quatre's mare had seen it and the wolf as well. Sandi would never have thrown him if she hadn't been frightened.

He rode back toward the castle, thinking he should probable not tell Trowa about the latest sighting of the wolf. And with a wry grin he wondered what the stableboy might say if he told Trowa he'd actually seen the Demon.

There was not much light left when he trotted Sandi back into the stable. It was still early, but the rain and mists had taken their toll and night was coming early. He needn't have worried about Trowa; the man must have gone in for supper. Quatre dried Sandi and put her into her stall, then brought her a bucket of oats and left her munching contentedly.

All the lights in the castle were on, and Quatre wondered why. Then he noticed that the carriages from the orphanage still stood, empty and waiting, in the driveway. Even before he reached the castle the blond felt a wave of dread. And he knew something was wrong.

Quatre stepped into the fragrant warmth of the kitchen and saw the cooks and servants assembled there, talking softly. "What is it?" He asked anxiously, thinking immediately of Treize. "Has something happened?"

Sally came forward, taking his arm and pulling him off to the side. "Oh, dear boy," she said. "One of the little girls is missing. We've searched the entire castle, but no one can find her."

He felt a deep, wrenching pain grip his heart as he remembered the warning about the Demon. He had dismissed it so easily.

"No," he whispered. "No, not Mariemeia…"

"Why, Mister Quatre," Sally gasped. "How did you know?"

Quatre quickly shook his head, biting at his lip. "Tell me quickly, please. What happened?"

"Well, you know the children were playing hide-and-seek. Afterward, everyone was accounted for except little Mariemeia. Then we began to hear her cries; they sounded all over the castle. But we searched high and low, and still no sign of her. It's terrible… hearing her pathetic little cries and not being able to find her…"

"But how can that be?"

She shook her head, a look of puzzlement on her face. "We thought of the old abandoned wells beneath the castle, but they've been closed off for years. Her cries seemed to be in the very walls; you could hear her everywhere."

"I-I don't understand this," Quatre murmured with a shiver.

"In the main part of the castle especially, the sounds echo all over. No one can actually tell where they're coming from. God help us, but I fear she's dead, and it's only her spirit we hear."

Hearing the words aloud finally shook Quatre into motion. "Nonsense," he snapped, striving to hide his own fear. He turned toward the main part of the castle and took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders. He was determined not to give in to the superstition that seemed to invade the castle like the surrounding fog and mist.

"We'll find her, Sally. If you can still hear her voice, it's because she's alive. And I intend to find her."


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Thirteen**

He ran quickly to the main part of the castle and stopped in the entry hall. Relena and her mother were there, along with Heero and Wufei. "Have you found her?" Quatre asked, knowing by the looks on their faces that they hadn't.

"No," Relena said sadly. "She's quiet now. Heero is afraid she's hidden somewhere without much space or air." There was an agonizing little sob in her voice as she expressed everyone's fears.

Quatre shook his head, hopelessly. "This is my fault. I should never have urged her to play the game, or tried to make her feel better by telling her what a good place she would find to hide in." He sank down on the bottom step of the staircase.

Missus Darlian stepped toward him. "That is not true," she said softly. "You were only being kind. Besides, I told her the same thing, so you can't accept all the responsibility."

He looked up at her in surprise, but she had moved away. Missus Darlian was always moving, and seemed always to have an efficient air about her.

"Blaming ourselves won't help," Heero spoke up. He was spreading large sheets of paper on an empty hall table.

As his fingers moved over the paper, Quatre felt an eerie sensation of having been in this particular spot before, even of having seen the papers that Heero perused.

"A-are those… the plans for the castle?"

"Yes," Heero answered, still studying the papers and not looking at him.

As if in a daze Quatre stood and stepped to the table, looking over Heero's shoulder. His eyes fell immediately to a rounded portion of the castle, and the blond knew it was the tower. Visions of a round room seemed to swim before his eyes. He could see it as clearly as the plans on the table.

"What room is this?" Quatre asked, pointing to it.

"The library," the darker man said thoughtfully. "Above it is the tower; there's nothing there anymore. It's kept locked."

For a moment Quatre remembered seeing the light and the outline of someone in the tower. But he said nothing. This was neither the time nor place to go into that mystery. They had to concentrate on finding Mariemeia before it was too late.

"Heero," the blond spoke again, placing a hand to the other's arm as the vision became clearer. "In the library… is there a trapdoor, or something similar?"

The darker man turned, focusing those disquieting blue eyes fully on Quatre. He frowned and looked at the blond warily. "No, not that I know of."

Quatre tried desperately to remember. He shook his head with an almost inaudible frustrated groan, lifting his other hand to grip his forehead. "A-are you sure? I know there's something there… but I can't remember…"

They were all looking at him oddly, as though he'd lost his mind. But he saw a glimmer of something in Heero's eyes, a spark deep within as the other man recognized what he was saying. "Wait… there _was_ something… a revolving panel, behind one of the bookshelves. I remember Treize showing it to me when I was still a boy. Wufei, you remember it, don't you?"

"Yes, sir."

"Well? Is it still there? Could the little girl have found her way behind it somehow?" Heero's impatience spilled over into his speech, making his strange accent more pronounced.

Wufei's obsidian eyes gleamed as he caught on. "She _could_ have, sir, yes."

Without another word, Heero ran out of the hall with everyone trailing behind, trying to keep up. He led the way through various rooms and hallways. In each were servants or matrons from the orphanage who were still searching for the girl. They seemed to sense what was happening, and some of them came along.

Heero entered the library with Wufei close on his heels. He turned and motioned Quatre inside, along with Relena and Missus Darlian. The rest stayed in the hallway, their looks curious as they watched.

Quatre knew this room, was certain he had been there before. The warm glow of the rich dark paneling curved around the room and accentuated the shelves of beautifully bound books. There was a small arched fireplace, and a nearby table held a brass lamp with a white fringed shade. Wufei lit the lamp and turned around the room as though he was not sure exactly what they were looking for.

"Where was it, Wufei? Do you recall?" Heero also looked about slowly.

"Mariemeia?" Quatre called, hoping if the girl was close she would hear him. "Pretty Mariemeia, are you here?"

Then heard her quite clearly then, a low, sobbing cry. But as Sally had said earlier, the sound came from everywhere; they were surrounded by it. It sent a cold chill up Quatre's spine.

"Here, sir." Wufei stepped to the right of the fireplace and pointed to a large carved section of bookshelves that reached to the ceiling. "Forgive me, sir, but I can't for the life of me remember how to open it."

Heero went forward swiftly, his hands running smoothly over every inch of the wall. "Keep talking to her, Quatre," he instructed. Even in the urgency of the moment, the blond realized Heero had addressed him by name, and not by that foreign nickname he so enjoyed teasing Quatre with.

"Mariemeia… Call out to us, beautiful. If you call out to us, it'll help us find you."

He could hear her; she was crying now, and he heard distinctly her faint, echoing words. "Help me."

"The fireplace," Quatre suddenly remembered. "One of the bricks on the fireplace unlocks the door."

"Yes, of course," Heero gasped. He stepped to the fireplace and pressed a hand against one of the bricks beneath the mantelpiece.

Slowly and with loud creaks and moans, one large section of the bookshelves swung open, revealing a small room with brick walls. And there, in the corner of the cold, damp enclosure, lay the little girl.

Quatre ran to her, picking her up in his arms and carrying her into the warmer atmosphere of the library. Her face was very pale and her eyes fluttered shut, as though she could not hold them open even one second longer. She was trembling within the cradle of his arms, and her small hands were like ice.

"Wufei," he asked, "can you find some blankets? We must get her warm."

Heero pressed the hidden brick, and the panel swung closed again. Any other time they might have all wanted to know what was inside. But now their concern for the child overrode any curiosity about the novelty of such a unique secret passage.

When Wufei returned, Relena and her mother drew closer to help Quatre cocoon the little girl in the blanket's soft warmth. Quatre was grateful - the older woman brought a sense of knowledge and stability just by being there. Missus Darlian's hands ran lightly over the child as they blanketed her, determining that there were no broken bones. Mariemeia seemed only to be very cold and frightened.

"She's all right," Missus Darlian said, with a little nod of reassurance as she gave over the child to Quatre once more.

His arms tightened just a fraction around the girl; "Thank God…"

Heero stepped to the door and spoke to the gathered servants. "It's all right, we've found her. You can all go back to whatever you were doing."

Two matrons from the orphanage came into the room. One seemed very agitated, even angry, with Mariemeia. "This child has always been troublesome," she said. "What she needs is a good thrashing. That will teach her to run away and hide in such a dangerous place."

"_What_?" Quatre hissed, holding the girl closer as he drew a step backward.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, sir," the woman said. "But don't worry, we'll take care of her once she's back at the orphanage."

"You will _not_," he disagreed, lowly enough that it came out like a growl of warning. "You won't touch her." He was grateful his arms were occupied; he wanted very much to wring the woman's neck.

The very devil must have been in his eyes, for the woman stepped away from him as though he might go through with his dark impulse. "W-well, really…"

"It's all right, Missus Saunders." It was Heero whose deep voice rumbled in the small room. "We'll keep the child here tonight. I'll bring her home myself tomorrow when she's feeling better."

With a mutter and a look back at Quatre, the woman left. Quatre looked with surprise and gratitude at Heero, but he seemed not at all interested in what the blond thought. But for a moment it felt to Quatre that Heero Yuy had spoken out as much for _him_ as for Mariemeia.

"Is it all right if I take Mariemeia to my room?" Quatre hesitantly wondered aloud, to no one in particular. "I-I know it isn't proper, but I don't want her waking up to an unfamiliar face…"

"I'm sure it is, lad," Missus Darlian murmured. "Isn't it, Heero?" Her attitude toward the blond had changed during the crisis, and Quatre saw Relena's wide grin of approval.

"Of course," Heero nodded. "Here, let me walk with you. Relena, would you ask Cathy to bring something warm for the girl to eat right away?" In his usual, confident way, he took charge, motioning Quatre through the door.

The blond glanced over at Relena and her mother. "Good night. And thank you."

"Good night, Quatre Raberba," Relena smiled. "I'll see you soon, perhaps tomorrow."

"Yes," Missus Darlian agreed, stepping forward. "Why don't you come tomorrow for tea… Quatre Raberba." She smiled almost shyly at him as she hesitated over his name. "Have Heero drive you over and let us show you the estate at Darlian House."

"For tea?" He teased breathlessly, almost giddy with relief at the invitation. "Yes, absolutely."

When he and Heero reached his room, the darker man quickly lit a number of lamps. Quatre followed him into the room, carefully putting the girl in his bed and pulling the covers up over her. He sat in a chair beside the bed, carefully freeing her hand from the many blankets and cradling it in his own. She was still extremely cold. She seemed so tiny and helpless that the blond could not bring himself to leave her.

Heero had a thoughtful frown across his flawless face. He left without saying a word to Quatre, and the blond fought a sharp pang of disappointment. But soon Cathy came in, her usual talkative, exuberant self. She made him feel better almost immediately.

Gently she shook the child awake and managed to feed several spoonfuls of soup into her mouth. Mariemeia looked first at Quatre and then Cathy, and there was an instant look of relaxation on her face.

"How do you feel, beautiful?" Quatre asked.

"Fine," she said, closing her eyes. "Sleepy."

"Go to sleep, then," he whispered, pulling the quilt back over her bare arms.

As he stared to move away from the bed, the girl stirred again, her small hands reaching out to him. "You won't leave me, will you?" She asked in a tremulous little voice.

"No, Mariemeia. I promise I won't leave you, not for a moment."

With a sweet smile that nearly broke his heart, she closed her eyes and was soon fast asleep.

"Is there anything else you'll be needing?" Cathy asked as she gathered the dishes onto a tray.

"You might bring me a tray later, Cathy. I'll have my dinner here."

"I'll stay with her, Mister Quatre, if you want to have dinner with the family."

"No," he said quickly. "I don't."

The feisty red-haired maid clicked her tongue. "Can't say as I blame you for that. I guess some are making it hard for you here."

"You could say that," Quatre muttered, moving to the window to gaze out into the velvety darkness.

"If you mind my saying so, sir… Trowa was worried about you today."

"Yes, Cathy, I know he was. I suppose he told you about my going riding with no saddle, did he?"

"Yes, he did." Her eyes were bright with astonishment. "Aren't you afraid of anything?"

"Of course," he replied, turning to frown at her look of dismay. "Everyone is afraid of something."

"But you ride out into storms and shadows, and from what I hear you're not shy about speaking your mind, even to Heero Yuy. I never met anyone like you." She frowned at him for a moment. "And the wolf… didn't the wolf scare you at all?"

"It did," he admitted with a reluctant laugh. "But I'm not one to believe in superstition, and the so-called curse doesn't frighten me."

"Well, it should. What about what happened today; what else could that be but the curse?"

"It could be a coincidence," he said firmly. For now that he thought about it, how could he have believed even for a moment that it was anything else?

"I still wish you'd be more careful. And if you see the wolf again, I think you should warn Mister Yuy right away."

"I did see it again, Cathy. I saw it today when I went riding."

"Oh, my Lord," she breathed, her eyes wide and frightened.

"And I saw something else… the Demon, I suppose."

She let out a tiny shriek, quickly clamping her hand over mouth before the sound could wake the child sleeping soundly in the bed. "You see? I'm going to the mister, right now!"

"No, you're not!" Quatre moved forward to catch her arm. "I told you only because I'm curious about the Demon, and I hoped you might tell me something about it."

"I don't know anything about him, I-"

"_Him?_"

She clamped her full lips tightly together. "You didn't hear that from me. And if you know what's good for you, you won't ask anyone else about him, either." With a nervous flurry of hands and skirt, the red-haired maid left the room, glancing back at the blond with a look of warning.

Hadn't Zechs Merquise said the Demon was a man? How could Quatre have forgotten?

There was a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach as he wished he had not mentioned the Demon to Cathy. She obviously connected the sighting with what had just happened to Mariemeia. And now the entire household was sure to know.


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Fourteen**

When Cathy later brought his dinner tray, she was subdued, and Quatre could see she was making an effort to clear the air… although she did not specifically mention their earlier conversation.

It had begun to rain again, and the sound of its whispering against the rooftops and windows was pleasant and soothing. It was too early to retire for the night, and he knew it wouldn't have been proper to slip into the bed with the little girl anyway, so he picked up a book that lay on a bedside table and made himself comfortable in one of the large chairs nearby.

He was practically asleep in the chair when he heard a light tap at the door. Quatre glanced toward the sleeping child and with a yawn went to the door.

He came immediately awake when he saw Heero standing there in the dim lights of the hallway. The other's face was pensive and serious, but he found a slight smile in response to Quatre's obvious surprise. "May I come in?"

"O-of course." The blond stepped back and opened the door a little wider.

Heero looked at the little girl as he entered the room. "How is she?"

"She seems to be perfectly fine," Quatre said. "But she's been sleeping almost without break since this afternoon."

"It's probably just what she needs."

He stood awkwardly, waiting for Heero to tell him why he had come. With a slight quirk of his lips, the darker man nodded toward the chair where Quatre had been reading. "Can we sit down? I'd like to talk to you."

Quatre moved silently to the big comfortable chair while Heero pulled another one closer. The blond didn't realize he was sitting on the edge of his seat until the other man smiled across at him.

"Relax," Heero murmured. "I'm not here to argue."

Quatre sank back into his chair with a sigh. "Then why _are_ you here?"

"How did you know about the hidden door in the library?"

It was a question the blond had already asked himself. His earliest childhood memories still escaped him, after all. But the vision he'd received and its resulting assistance toward Mariemeia's successful rescue comforted Quatre and made him feel more secure about having come to Rosemont. He was well aware, however, that Heero would not share that feeling.

"I-I believe I must've remembered seeing it before."

"And when exactly did you remember it?"

"When I saw you looking at the architect's plans, it… it just came to me."

Heero watched him carefully for a moment. Quatre could see it was something else the darker man wished to use against him. He got up quickly from the chair and walked away from those challenging blue eyes.

"You don't believe me," he muttered, gazing out a window into the darkness of the quiet storm.

"I said it before… You're very believable."

"Apparently, not believable enough. You seem to have made up your mind about me." Quatre spun around, angry that the man could always do this to him. "Why did you come?"

Heero stared at him for a long while, his eyes thoughtful and probing. "I don't know why. Perhaps there is a small part of me that _wants_ to believe you… for Treize."

Quatre glanced away from his intense gaze. "How is he?"

"He's better. Mother has been with him all day."

"I wonder how she stands it," he sighed, more to himself than to Heero.

"She loves him," the darker man answered, his voice hard and defensive.

"I know she does. But haven't you ever wondered how she must feel, having to care for a man lost in sorrow because of another woman? Do you realize that your mother has shared his life for many more years than Leia did?"

"Yes. And of course I've wondered how she feels," Heero said curtly. "She is my mother, and I hate seeing her unhappy." He frowned at Quatre; "But, somehow, that was not something I thought _you_ would see… or understand."

"Give me a _little_ credit, won't you? Perhaps it's because I never knew my mother or father. I'm able to see Treize as he really is and not through the eyes of a son."

"Perhaps," he said, lowering his eyes.

"There is something I'd like to ask you too, Heero."

"Of course," he quietly agreed. "Anything."

"Do you believe this curse of the Demon? That a curse has been placed on Rosemont Castle?"

Heero sighed. "I suppose I couldn't expect you not to hear the story. I just didn't think you'd hear it so soon."

"Well, do you?"

"No, of course I don't believe such nonsense." His blue eyes flickered upward to Quatre's face with startling intensity. "And neither should you."

"I don't," Quatre quickly denied. "At least… I don't think I do. But I did see the wolf, and then this accident with Mariemeia happened. Trowa and Cathy both warned me, but…"

"There are many here who believe the story and are frightened by it. But don't let them make you feel guilty. You had nothing to do with Mariemeia's accident."

Heero's understanding surprised him.

"I-I went riding this afternoon. I saw the wolf again. And this time, I think I saw the Demon, too."

"The Demon, _warabe_, is just a man who lives alone in the mountains. He's different, that's all. Mountain people tend to be frightened of anyone different from them."

"You called me Quatre this afternoon," the blond reminded him quietly.

"Don't change the subject," he said gruffly.

Quatre smiled at him, realizing it annoyed Hero that the blond had caught him off-guard. Was it possible the darker man was not so unyielding as he wanted Quatre to think? The mere thought of the prospect seemed almost possible.

"You seem to know this 'Demon' very well. Perhaps you could introduce me to him."

"Why?"

"No reason. Perhaps he's lonely and needs a friend."

"You _do_ seem to have a penchant for taking in strays, don't you." With a wry smile he glanced pointedly at Mariemeia.

Quatre bristled immediately, "I suppose there's something wrong with that?"

Heero laughed and held up a hand in mock defense. "No, not at all. Believe it or not, I understand how you feel."

Quatre remembered what he'd been told about Heero's childhood. The blond wanted so badly to ask him about it. But their conversation held the smallest hint of something promising that night, and wanted so badly not to ruin it. He sensed Heero was a man who tried to keep his emotions in check, not that he always succeeded.

Heero stood suddenly, moving very close. Quatre stepped back instinctively, and the darker man smiled again. "It's late," he said softly. "I'll leave you to your rest now."

"Goodnight then," the blond whispered, not trusting himself to look up into that handsome face again.

"By the way - Missus Darlian mentioned that she has invited you to tea. If you'd like, you can go with me to the orphanage, to take Mariemeia back… then we'll stop by Darlian House."

Quatre looked with a frown toward Mariemeia. He knew he would hate himself forever if he was to send her away, back to the rigid punishment suggested earlier by the matron. "We don't have to, do we?"

Heero's eyes followed his, and it was as if he had read Quatre's mind. "If you're worried about Missus Saunders, there's no need. She won't be with the orphanage after tomorrow."

Quatre's eyes flew upward to his face and he found Heero watching the blond with an odd glint in his eyes.

"I didn't like her attitude, either," he explained with a dangerous smirk.

"Oh."

"Well, would you like to go with me?"

"Y-yes," Quatre answered, in a weak, breathless voice that made him want to kick himself.

Heero laughed and turned to go into the hallway. "Good night, then, little gypsy. Sleep well."

"Heero…?"

He turned back and stood quietly, waiting. "Yes?"

"About the hidden panel in the library… You don't believe my remembering proves I'm Treize's son?"

His sensuous lips quirked, and Heero looked at Quatre from beneath his dark brows. "No, I don't think it proves anything. Except that perhaps Rasid tutored you in even greater detail than I thought. Good night… _warabe_."

As he turned on his heel and walked away, Quatre stared after him, open-mouthed. Quatre should have known, should not have tried so hard to make things happen the way he wanted. Whatever progress they'd made earlier was now all for nothing.

He hardly slept that night, despite that the chair he had banished himself to was quite comfortable. Quatre told himself it was because of Mariemeia's presence. And it was true that he was conscious of every sound she made, every small movement. But more than that, he knew it was Heero Yuy who troubled his thoughts.

He saw Heero's face a thousand times during the long hours of the night. He remembered the man's disquieting blue eyes and tried to imagine them smiling at Quatre instead of frowning. But he could not force something that was impossible. He could see Heero so clearly, the strong angles of his darkly handsome face, the way Heero raked his hands through his unruly hair when he was worried or upset. But Quatre couldn't make him smile, couldn't convince Heero that he was telling the truth.

~o~

The next morning Mariemeia seemed rested and well. She was very happy to find herself still in the castle and especially with Quatre and Cathy. They ate breakfast in his room; Cathy stayed with them, laughing and teasing the little girl and sometimes bringing a shy smile to Mariemeia's pale, serious face.

Quatre tried to explain to her, as carefully as he could, that they would be taking her back to the orphanage. And although she tried hard not to show her disappointment, the blond could see it in the way the light left her eyes.

"But I promise to see you often, Mariemeia. And you can come visit the castle again soon."

Her weak smile twisted Quatre's heart.

"Do you believe me?" He asked. "I want you to believe that I won't just leave you there and forget you. I could never forget you, beautiful."

She gave another faint smile and shrugged her frail shoulders. Quatre wondered how many times she'd been promised such things, and how many times she'd been disappointed. He knew the only way for her to believe him would be to never break his promises to her, to keep returning to her and to never leave her lonely.

"Cathy," he murmured. "Will you help Mariemeia get ready? I want to speak to Treize before we go."

"Sure," Cathy grinned. Quatre suspected she enjoyed the little girl's company as much as he did.

He was grateful that no one was with Treize. The older man sat up in bed, and Quatre took note of the decanters on his bedside table. There were also glasses and a pitcher of water. But Quatre suppressed a sigh as he pulled a chair near the bed and sat down. This was not going to be easy.

"Quatre Raberba," Treize smiled. "What a pleasant surprise."

"I hope you still feel that way when I tell you why I've come."

He looked at Quatre oddly. "Dear boy, I doubt you could do anything to displease me." He seemed to remember nothing of their previous encounter or how angry he had been at Quatre's interference.

When Treize reached for the decanter, Quatre reached too, clutching his wrist and pulling his hand away. The older man frowned at him as though the blond had lost his mind.

"This…" Quatre said, nodding toward the liquor, "is why I'm here."

"What do you mean?"

"Father," he sighed, releasing the man's wrist and sitting back. "I know how you must've suffered when we left Rosemont. I've heard some of the story. But that was many years ago. And I suppose it must be selfish of me to barge back into your life so unexpectedly and ask you to put it all behind you. But I want to know you, to spend time with you. I want to know about my mother, and what our life was like then."

Treize's smile was not as strong as it should have been, and Quatre could see the displeasure beginning in his eyes. "Of course. And there's no reason why we can't…"

"Yes, there is," Quatre said firmly. "I'm sorry, Father, but _this_… You, locked away in this room for days and weeks… This is not life. You don't even know what's happening on your own estate or right here inside this castle - Did you know a little girl lost herself within the very walls, and it was pure luck we were able to find her? You've lost so much time already-"

"No!" Treize shouted, his eyes flashing with anger. "There was nothing for me after Leia left, after you…" He reached again for the bottle, glaring at the blond resentfully.

This time Quatre did not stop him, but rose to leave the room. He fisted his hands at his sides and turned his gaze away.

"I'm sorry, Father. But I lost my family then, too. Now I want it back; I want _you_ back. And this man… the one who stays drunk for weeks and months… I don't believe he's my father, and I don't believe he's the man my mother loved so desperately."

"Get out," he said hoarsely, his voice trembling with emotion. "You have no right to speak to me this way! I will do as I please."

"And so will I," Quatre immediately fired back, lifting his eyes to meet Treize's gaze directly.

"I'm my father's son, and I'm giving you fair warning. If you choose to continue living your life in this manner, then I will fight you every step of the way. I will hound you and annoy you until you either give in… or finally turn me out from your home." The blond was practically panting now, choking on his own anxiety. He'd never made such brazen demands on anyone before.

"I think you should get up out of that bed and fall to your knees in gratitude for what you have. And you should beg Hiromi's forgiveness for all your years of neglect. She loves you, Father… and so does Heero. I think it's time you repaid them with a little appreciation and understanding, instead of lying here in a self-indulgent stupor!"

Quatre left then, before the older man had a chance to scream at him for his daring. As he closed the door he heard a loud thud from inside and the sound of breaking glass. He hesitated, wondering guiltily if he should go back. What if his father had hurt himself? But then Quatre realized that was how Treize had become this way to begin with. He'd used guilt and the possibility that he might be hurt if anyone dared oppose him.

With clenched fists, the blond turned and walked back down the hall to his room.


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Fifteen**

When he returned to his room Quatre saw that Cathy had placed clean clothes on the bed. In spite of how she felt about his way of dressing, the newly washed and ironed shirt and trousers lay folded neatly for him.

Mariemeia giggled as he picked up the clothes, and Quatre winked at her before stepping behind the bathing screen to change. Against his will he imagined Heero's eyes and wondered how they would look if the blond came downstairs wearing a fine new suit, but then he quickly brushed the thought away as he tucked his shirt into his worn and faded trousers.

"I like your hair," Mariemeia said shyly as he stepped from behind the screen.

Quatre laughed, sitting down next to her legs and leaning closer, letting the strands of his hair fall forward over his shoulder in an invitation for her to appease her curiosity. The girl shyly reached with her hand, and her fingers threaded through his tawny strands.

Gasping, she drew her hand back. "It's so cool and smooth…"

Chuckling again under his breath, he straightened away and began binding his hair into a gypsy's tail. "And how are you feeling this morning, beautiful?"

"I feel good," she whispered timidly. "I… I shouldn't have hid there. Missus Saunders told us not to go outside. But I wanted to find a good place. You're not mad at me, are you?"

Knotting the leather tie, Quatre dropped his arms and looked at her, pretending to think it over. "Well… Far be it from me to invite the wrath of heaven by getting angry with one of its angels."

She smiled, a faint rose coloring her cheeks.

"But Mariemeia," he wondered, hiding a slight frown. "What did you mean about going outside to hide? Don't you remember where we found you?"

She looked at him strangely, then shook her head as she shrugged her shoulders.

"We found you in a hidden room in the library. You remember it, don't you? How you pushed the brick on the fireplace and the bookshelf swung open?"

"No." She was frowning at him as if she didn't understand. He could see she remembered nothing about the hidden panel.

"Where exactly did you hide, sweetheart?"

"In the carriage house," she replied firmly. "I ran outside without anyone seeing me and hid in the carriage house."

"But Mariemeia, that's impossible. We found you in the library."

Her eyes were wide and innocent. She was as confused as he was.

Quatre took a slow breath, not wanting to scare her. "All right. Tell me what happened. Start from when you found your hiding place. Then we'll figure out the rest from there."

She nodded, eager to make him understand. "I went into the carriage house, and I saw the shiny carriages. One of them even has glass windows," she added with a hint of excitement. "I only meant to stay in the carriage house. No one would find me there."

"I'm sure you're right," Quatre said, gently tucking a few strands of vibrant red behind her ear. "What happened then?"

"I sat on the floor and waited. And… and I scratched on the floor, making letters and numbers in the dirt."

"Go on."

"There was a big handle in the floor. I found it when I moved some of the dirt away. It was a door," she whispered, looking at Quatre with a scared look in her eyes. "I… I know I shouldn't have gone down inside. I know I shouldn't have."

She was almost in tears. Quatre pulled her close, cradling her head against his shoulder. "It's all right, Mariemeia. We all do things we shouldn't, sometimes. But I know you learned your lesson. What you did was dangerous; you might've been hurt very badly, you know."

"The… the door closed behind me; I couldn't get out. I was so scared. I don't know how long I walked. It was so dark and cold…"

"It's all right," he whispered into her hair. "You're safe, now."

She pulled away from him, fear lingering in her big blue eyes. "Y-you won't tell Missus Saunders, will you?"

"Absolutely not," he smiled gently. "It's over now; there wouldn't be any point. But promise me you'll never do anything like that again."

She relaxed then, with a whispered little sigh. "I promise."

Quatre would ask Cathy later about the hidden door in the carriage house. There had to be some sort of passageway beneath the estate, or perhaps a storage area. But how Mariemeia had ended up in the library at the far end of the castle was a real mystery.

There was no time to think about it now. He knew Heero was downstairs, waiting for them.

~o~

Heero Yuy was outside, standing beside a shining black buggy. Heero smiled as they came across the front loggia. Mariemeia's eyes grew bright as she looked first to Quatre and then to the fashionable little carriage.

The blond could sense Heero's eyes on him - surveying his worn clothes, no doubt. But to his credit, the darker man said nothing as he took Mariemeia's small hand in his and helped her up the steps into the open carriage.

"My lady," he said, with a low bow to her.

Mariemeia giggled and, with a move that brought a soft smile to Quatre's lips, she took her faded dress in her hands and spread her skirt upon the seat before sitting down.

But then Heero turned to Quatre. With a challenging quirk of his brow, he held out his hand to the blond. Quatre narrowed his eyes and refused to rise to the bait, knocking the hand away and following Mariemeia into the carriage without another look in the darker man's direction. He swore he could hear Heero's soft laughter as the door clicked shut behind him.

They pulled away from the castle, and Quatre breathed a deep sigh, sinking back against the seat. Two minutes with Heero Yuy, and the blond felt he had exhausted all his energy for the day. Yet Mariemeia seemed to deeply enjoy the ride, and so Quatre smiled and listened to her enthusiasm, not wanting to spoil it for her.

The orphanage was not what he had expected - a large white mansion with a columned front porch. Children were playing on the wide front lawn, and they seemed as happy and carefree as any children.

Mariemeia hesitated, moving closer to him on the seat. Quatre felt a rip tear into his chest at having to leave her that day. _Kindred spirits._ It was almost as if he'd left a part of himself as well.

But Heero was especially good with her. He spoke tenderly and patiently as he helped her down from the carriage.

"Do you want me to go with you?" Quatre asked her.

"No."

"I'll come to see you Saturday. Would you like that?"

Immediately her eyes lit up, and she looked at Quatre with a faint smile. "Yes, sir."

"We'll go to town and wander the market street," he offered, trying to think of something she could look forward to until then.

"Oh! Can we buy you some new clothes?"

Heero lowered his head, trying to hide the grin on his handsome face. He bit his lower lip as he glanced up at Quatre, his dark blue eyes wide and questioning.

"You know something, beautiful?" Quatre answered her, though his gaze was locked on the darker man before him. "You've got yourself a deal."

~o~

Neither he nor Heero had much to say on the trip to Darlian House. Yet it was not an awkward silence. Quatre admired the budding colors of spring and the well-kept homes along the way. Heero seemed intent only on his driving.

Darlian House was on the outskirts of the small town. Quatre took one look and liked it immediately. It wasn't as grand and imposing as Rosemont Castle, but it was just as fine and elegant. The bricks of the house were a pale, sun-warmed tan. The long, low front porch was supported by huge white columns, and at each end, early roses twined in perfumed cascades onto white trellises.

Relena heard their carriage and came out onto the porch to greet them. Quatre thought she was breathtaking with her light brown hair pinned in curls atop her head. The mint-green dress she wore set off her eyes and showed her lovely willowy figure to perfection.

"Quatre Raberba," she greeted, coming toward him with a welcoming smile. "I'm so glad you came."

Remembering her encouraging response when they'd first met, Quatre did as he had done on that night and made a grand performance of bowing to her. "Your humble fool, milady."

She giggled and pulled him upright, hooking her arm through his as she led him through the front door. Next to her, Quatre felt drab and decidedly young and awkward. She was the epitome of a gracious southern young lady, and for the first time he began to truly see how inadequate his own upbringing had been.

But Relena and her mother were both kind, neither mentioning his way of dressing, or even seeming to notice.

As they went into a small parlor just off the entryway, Quatre found a surprise waiting to greet him.

"_M-monsieur_ Merquise…"

"Zechs," the man replied, rising from a chair with a subtle quirk of his lips. "I thought perhaps one more familiar face could not hurt."

Quatre swallowed down a sudden lump in his throat. Somehow, the older blond's presence made him feel less a stranger, and Quatre sensed he knew that.

Zechs sighed, drawing Quatre into a brief, polite embrace. "Seeing you again is a welcome pleasure."

Quatre stole a quick glance toward Heero, wanting to see the darker man's face when he realized that not everyone regarded Quatre as either a child or a nuisance. But Heero's hooded eyes revealed little as he watched them. There was only a slight, amused smile on his lips.

The afternoon was close to perfection. Quatre had never been made to feel more at home. It seemed Missus Darlian's new attitude toward him was to remain, and it made him feel hopeful. Relena proved yet again her exuberance, flirting outrageously with Heero and then with Zechs. _Monsieur_ Merquise was much too old for her, but it seemed not to bother her one bit. And Zechs seemed to enjoy it tremendously, though one would never guess from his perfectly poised mannerisms and that ever present half-smile.

Quatre found himself so caught up in their conversation, that when Relena asked about his life as a gypsy, he immediately started to regale them with a tale about Rasid before he caught himself. He mentally cursed himself, horrified he had forgotten to be careful. Missus Darlian had stiffened noticeably as she rose from her chair.

"I-I'm sorry, Missus Darlian. I wasn't thinking…"

"It's all right, child," she said, more kindly than he expected. "Everyone in this room knows about Rasid. We are all friends here. Besides, he is one of the reasons I asked you to come today."

"He is?"

Missus Darlian went across the room to a massive walnut desk and opened one of the drawers. When she came back she handed a small, framed picture to Quatre. "Do you recognize this man?" She asked quietly.

He was much younger, his expression more carefree than ever. But there could be no mistake.

"Rasid," Quatre whispered, emotion thick in his throat.

"You see, Heero," Missus Darlian said, turning to him. "It _is_ Rasid. Now can you deny this is the boy Treize lost so many years ago?"

With a heavy sigh, Heero placed his cup on a nearby table and stood up. "I have never said he did not know Rasid."

"But-"

"Missus Darlian," he said quickly. "I appreciate your feelings, but there's been enough speculation. If you don't mind, I'd prefer to wait until the investigation is concluded."

The room grew very quiet, and they all sensed that the pleasant afternoon had come to an end. Quatre still held Rasid's picture. It was great to see him again. Ever since Quatre had come to Rosemont his life had been filled with a new excitement, and he'd hardly had time to remember the nomadic life he'd had with Rasid. But the picture brought it all back with a clarity that stole his very breath.

"You may keep it if you like, Quatre," Missus Darlian said quietly when he attempted to hand it back to her.

"I-I would," he stammered, bringing his hand back. "Thank you. I didn't have a picture of him, before."

"I'm afraid all this talk has spoiled your fine smile," Zechs lamented, coming to stand beside him. "Would you like me to take you home? We could go round by way of the vineyards. You said you enjoyed the sight."

Heero stepped forward, surprisingly fast. "That's not necessary, Zechs. I'll take him home as planned."

"No," Quatre argued, standing to face the older blond. "I think a ride with you is just what I need."

"But lad," Missus Darlian began. "_Monsieur_ Merquise is on horseback… surely you don't intend…"

Quatre's spirits lifted immediately, and he didn't care at all how it would look with both of them riding one horse. A ride was just the thing to shake the gloomy clouds from his mind. "I'm ready," he said, turning to Zechs with a smile.

Zechs laughed, a soft chuckle that rumbled deep in his throat. "Then let us be on our way."

Quatre didn't look back, didn't want to see the disapproval in Heero's eyes. He truly had been acting the fool, thinking the darker man might ever accept him as he was. Perhaps it was time to stop reaching for the impossible.


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Sixteen**

Zechs led a big, silver-grey stallion to the carriage steps in front of the house. After he was in the saddle, he reached down to help Quatre climb on behind him. All the while Quatre was aware of the rustle of curtains at the windows.

At that moment he didn't care what anyone inside had to say. He was too eager for the big horse to carry them away, too intrigued about seeing the vineyards. And only in his heart did he admit that he was running from Heero's disapproving eyes.

"You might want to hold on," Zechs warned, half-smile in place, just before he nudged the horse into a full gallop. Quatre let out a laugh as he held tight, enjoying the exhilaration and the risk as they practically flew through the streets of town and onto the road toward Rosemont Castle.

Quatre supposed Zechs was the only one who did not try to make him into something he was not. In fact, he suspected the older blond relished Quatre's independent nature.

They raced down the long tree-lined driveway toward the castle. Chickens and guineas scattered in a frenzy of feathers and cackles as they passed. Quatre laughed so hard he nearly fell from the horse.

Zechs was laughing too as they exited the sandy road into the vineyard - not his low, poised chuckle, but a full and hearty laugh that Quatre, with his arms wrapped tightly around Zech's middle, could feel rumbling from the very center of the older blond's chest. With a smattering of French phrases, Zechs slowed the horse and reached down to pat the animal's neck. He let Quatre slide down the horse's flank to the ground, before following after him.

"I never thought a simple ride could turn into such an adventure," Zechs smiled, once again poised and proper, though the laughter still lingered in his eyes. "And _you_… so spontaneous, so unafraid. I have never seen another like you."

"Not even my mother?" Quatre asked.

"Leia?" Zechs chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, indeed no. For all her darkly passionate looks, she was always a quiet and conventional young woman. You, on the other hand, are uninhibited and exuberant. The gypsy in you, I suppose, but I find that makes you all the more enticing."

"Thank you, sir," Quatre smiled, a hint of warmth flushing his throat beneath the collar of his shirt. "And you are the only one I've met, besides Rasid, who allows me to be myself. It's a refreshing change of pace."

For a moment the older blond became serious, looking down into Quatre's face thoughtfully. His silver eyes were warm and pensive.

"Ah, cherub… if only I were twenty years younger."

Quatre smiled at him, though he suspected the older man's lament was genuine. And he remembered Relena asking him when they'd first met - _"Haven't you ever had a lady on your arm? A beau?"_ Quatre had not lied when he'd told her there had never been an opportunity. But he knew very well that it was no uncommon thing for two men to be attracted to one another; in fact it seemed to be supported and encouraged as naturally as when a man and woman came together.

He didn't want to give Zechs the wrong impression that he could ever return the older man's sentiment. But somehow the Frenchman's attempt at intimacy did not unnerve or disturb him - not as Heero's had. With Zechs Merquise, the younger blond felt comfortable and at ease.

Just the mere thought of how Quatre felt when Heero looked down so seriously at him made a chill run up his spine. The darker man made him feel anything but comfortable.

Zechs and he began to walk through the rows of vines. The silvered leaves were unfolding as spring brought the brown, withered vines to life. It was a sight to behold.

"You like the vines," Zechs murmured quietly. "I can see it in your eyes. More proof to me that you are a Khushrenada. Your family's estates in France have long been a major producer of the finest Cabernets in the world. Producing grapes and making wines is in their blood. That is the reason I agreed to come here. I would only have done it for Treize Khushrenada."

"Cabernet," Quatre echoed, testing the word on his tongue. He sighed, "Why does everything have to sound so foreign?"

Zechs chuckled under his breath, though there was nothing but companionable amusement in his eyes. "Tonight we shall have a bottle of the best Khushrenada Cabernet. I find myself anxious to learn what your unspoiled taste will tell us about it."

A warm breeze rustled the leaves as it moved through the flat area of the vineyard. Quatre reached out to touch one of the plants. "You couldn't have planted these," he challenged. "They look as if they've been here for years."

"You have a good eye," the older blond approved. "They were brought here by Swiss immigrants who settled the land, and from whom you father bought the estate." He stepped to one of the vines and pulled one of the twigs out for Quatre to see. "This graft is newer… the work Heero was doing when I came. And a fine job of it he has done. The lad was born to the vineyard, it seems, a natural talent."

"Graft?"

"Yes, the new stock - this part, here - is inserted into the old vine, you see. This is the Cynthiana, a new and hardy American stock. It is doing quite well."

"Will you teach me, Zechs?" Quatre wondered, quietly. "I want to learn everything about the vineyard and about making the wine."

"Of course," he said, lips quirking in that half-smile that seemed so much a part of him.

They walked for a while, Zechs pointing out other varieties and other experiments. Quatre's interest grew; he found himself impatient for the next step in the vineyard's growth to see what would happen.

They had come to the end of the long rows and stood gazing across the stream to where he'd first seen the wolf, and later the Demon. Almost as though Zechs had read Quatre's mind, he gently broke the peaceful quiet. "When we spoke the other day, you mentioned a man by the name of Duo."

"Yes," Quatre said. "Have you found out who he is?"

"I believe so. I asked around, and there seems to be only one person in the community with that name. But it seems strange to me that this is the man of whom your Rasid spoke."

"Why? Who is he? Is he still alive? Where does he live?"

"One question at a time," he chuckled. "When I tell you, you might not be so eager."

Quatre stared, puzzled. Why wouldn't he be eager to meet the man Rasid had spoken of?

Zechs raised his arm and pointed toward the top of the ridge across the stream. "He lives there, I am told," he said slowly. "The local people call him by another name… the Demon."

His words shocked Quatre, left his mind a whir. This could not be the Duo they were searching for. How would Rasid have known such a creature? And why would he tell Quatre to ask the Demon about the mystery of his childhood?

"Do you think it's only coincidence? Could there have been someone else… another man by the name of Duo?"

"By the word of those I spoke with, there was no other."

Quatre sighed, having almost expected that answer, and he gazed upon the dark slopes of the mountain. "I'll have to meet him, then. Find out for certain."

With a quirk of his lips, the older blond warned, "I cannot tell you whether that would be a good idea, Quatre Raberba. You know the legend of the Demon, do you not? He is said to have cursed this place, to have cursed your family. He will not take kindly to questions from a Khushrenada."

"I'm not afraid of him. I saw him once - I don't believe he means me harm."

"I will not argue with you," Zechs said. "For your independence is but one facet of the whole that makes you so admirable. I only ask that you proceed slowly and with caution."

"I will."

"You must tell Heero about this. He will know what to do."

Quatre hesitated, a vision of those dark disapproving eyes filling his mind. "I… I'll think about it."


	17. Chapter Seventeen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Seventeen**

That evening, Quatre stood awkwardly before his bedroom door, hesitating. His fingers fidgeted with the loose cuff dangling over his other hand. Cathy swept forth, expertly folding the cuff back and freeing his hand from the overly long sleeve, then deftly moved on to the other arm. "Don't worry," she whispered. "You really _do_ look fine."

He gave a weak smile, tucking his hands into his pockets as she stepped behind him to make one last adjustment to his gypsy's tail. "I feel like an idiot."

"Well, you _look_ like a modestly-dressed gentleman."

"You'll thank Trowa for the lend, won't you?" Quatre requested, hands smoothing nervously down the front of his clothes - a light blue cotton shirt with darker blue buttons down the front, and a pair of fine grey trousers, both borrowed. They were simple clothes, of course, but still in far better condition than what he had been wearing.

"He was only too glad to help." When a long minute had passed and Quatre still had not reached for the door, she laughed. "Go on! All this time you said you weren't afraid of them, so prove it and get out there."

Sucking in a deep breath, he resolutely stepped out into the hallway.

Downstairs, he paused outside the closed dining room door, checking himself over one more time before going in. Everyone's looks of acknowledgement and greeting changed as they saw how he was dressed. And although most were discreet, Quatre saw varying degrees of amazement in their faces.

But he was too happy to see Treize there to wonder what everyone thought. After the way they had parted that morning, the blond was pleased and hopeful at his presence.

Treize came forward to greet him, his hand coming up to rest lightly upon Quatre's shoulder. "Quatre Raberba," he said in a low voice. "You make me so proud."

"I'm relieved to see you here," the blond confessed.

They were still apart from the others, enough so that no one could hear their whispered words.

The hand gripping Quatre's shoulder squeezed briefly before dropping away. "I'm going to try; that is all I can promise you."

"It's all I ask," Quatre nodded.

Treize did seem different that night. He was still far too thin and pale, of course. But there was an air about him that couldn't be explained, and it gave Quatre hope for the future.

He was aware of everyone's eyes upon him as they walked across the floor. And Quatre was thankful for the security of his father's presence at his side.

Hiromi was the first to approach him. "Quatre Raberba," she said in a breathless voice. "You're striking - just as I knew you would be." Again he was surprised by her generosity when he should have expected resentment. Quatre was beginning to believe Cathy was wrong about this woman.

Zechs came forward, as well. "Sit with me, cherub," he said smoothly. There was quiet amusement in his silver eyes as he looked down at Quatre, and he chuckled softly. "I do admire your style."

Dorothy stood at Heero's side, and she stared at Quatre as though he was a creature from Hell. There was certainly no approval in _her_ eyes. "I don't know what the fuss is about," she said shrilly. "The waif is dressed suitably for once… but from the looks of him, in someone's poor castoffs."

Treize stiffened and turned slowly to the blonde woman. "Never…" He fairly growled, "_Never_ use that tone of voice again to my son, Dorothy. Must I remind you that this was his home long before it was yours?"

There was complete silence in the room, and Dorothy's face became pale and drawn. For a moment she continued to stare at Quatre, then slowly she lowered her eyes.

"Yes, Treize," she said, demurely. "Please accept my apologies."

"Your apology should be directed to Quatre Raberba, not to me," he ordered coldly.

Quatre heard her slow intake of air and saw the tremble of her full lips. She could hardly force herself to do it. "I… I apologize," she said, slowly, "if I offended you in any way. It was not my intention."

Treize turned and looked at everyone in the room. His head was lifted high, his shoulders straight. For the first time in what must have been years, he seemed in control of himself and his household, and Quatre knew it surprised everyone.

"This is as good a time as any to say this," he began forcefully. "Quatre Raberba is my son. I will hear no more discussions about whether he is or not. He is to be treated with the respect he deserves as the heir to this estate. And if there are any among you who cannot comply with kindness and loyalty, for whatever reason, then I would expect you to leave these premises as soon as possible." He stood stiffly, poised for opposition.

But there was none - only a stunned silence and a darting of eyes as everyone took in the meaning of his words. Quatre knew they were shocked, even as he was.

Heero watched them, his blue eyes narrowed and speculative. But he did not seemed surprised nor necessarily angered by Treize's blunt words.

Hiromi, as always the one to smooth things over, stepped forward with a bright smile and took Quatre's arm. "Well," she said cheerfully. "Now that that's settled, shall we have our dinner, before it grows cold?"

Treize smiled at her. His look at her was new - sweet, and full of gratitude - and Quatre was humbled by the idea that he had been the start of it.

Hiromi motioned Quatre toward a chair, and Zechs moved forward to sit quietly beside him. For the first few moments, the room was silent except for the clink of china and silver. Then on of the servants wheeled in a cart containing two silver buckets. In each was a glistening bottle of wine.

"Ah," Zechs breathed, a corner of his lips quirking back as he glanced sidelong at Quatre.

"The Cabernet?"

"Exactly."

The wine was poured into slim fluted glasses. Quatre watched carefully as the servants stopped at his father's chair; Treize placed his hand discreetly over his glass, reaching instead for a goblet of water.

Zechs lifted his glass toward the light, seeming to delight in the sparkle that played in the pale liquid depths. "To the vine," he toasted.

"To the vine," the others echoed.

"To the return of my son," Treize put in, saluting Quatre with his water glass.

"And to the Khushrenada family," Quatre added, a faint blush warming him beneath the collar.

He brought the glass to his lips. The wine, a clear salmon pink color, tasted spicy and had an oak-flavored scent that lingered on his tongue. Quatre did not swallow a second sip, instead placing the fluted glass down and pulling his own goblet of water closer. He knew he could never acquire a taste for the wine for which Zechs held such high regard. For Quatre, it fell into the same category as meat or coffee.

Zechs did not appear insulted by his reaction to the drink, however, instead quirking an amused brow at the fact that the younger blond had even tasted it in the first place.

The wine seemed to ease the tension around the table somewhat, and soon everyone was engaged in conversation.

Quatre watched Hiromi. She could not take her eyes off her husband's face. The blond hoped Treize would not disappoint her and risk erasing that look. She loved Treize; that much was plain for all to see. And Quatre saw such desperate longing in her eyes that he could scarcely bear to watch.

Treize soon tired, and when he and Hiromi left together shortly after dinner, Quatre felt the others were only too eager to follow. They could finally rid themselves of the awkward need to act as though nothing had happened.

Zechs had just moved his head closer to speak with Quatre, when Dorothy suddenly appeared. "Zechs," she said in a conspicuously coy voice, "I'm afraid the wine has gone to my head. Would you mind seeing me to my room?"

Zechs, always the poised and gracious gentleman, could not refuse. A corner of his lips quirking in a nearly unnoticeable grimace, he turned and offered Dorothy his arm.

Quatre left quickly, not giving Heero Yuy the opportunity to reproach him again. He went for a few minutes out onto the loggia to breathe in the warm aroma of the spring evening. He could hear a whippoorwill somewhere in the distance. Then another sound intruded on the quiet tranquil evening… the sound of a wolf's howling.

He fought back a sudden chill and went inside. He could almost feel the animal's glittering black eyes watching him from somewhere deep in the forest that surrounded the estate.

As usual, the hallway upstairs was dark and shadowy, the dim lights along the wall making little difference in the gloom. As he strode quickly toward his room, suddenly a figure loomed before him, catching him off-guard. He flinched with a short cry as the man grasped Quatre's arm and pulled him into a dark alcove not far from his room.

"I want to talk to you." Heero's voice was low and quiet in the darkness.

"What the hell are you doing?" Quatre hissed. "I nearly jumped out of my skin!"

The darker man did not answer right away, dragging the blond to his room and quickly inside, closing the door behind them.

"You've no right…!" Quatre had never seen him behave in this fierce, barely controlled manner, and it unnerved him.

"Tell me something," Heero commanded, his voice a menacing growl in the quiet of the room. He stepped closer to the blond. "What exactly is the game you're playing with Zechs?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Have you no idea what he must think after the way you threw yourself at him today? Not to mention what Missus Darlian must have thought. And tonight you seemed intent on continuing this charade."

"_Th-threw myself?_ I did no such thing."

He turned abruptly and began to stalk across the room and back again. "I can't decide if you are compulsively brazen or merely a finicky, thoughtless child who…"

Quatre's hands fisted at his sides, the anger growing in him like a gathering storm. The other man's overbearingly arrogant manner made the heat rise within him until he thought he would explode. "Get out of my room," he muttered quietly. "I won't stand here and be subjected by you. My father-"

"Your father," Heero interrupted, biting off the words, "is not here at the moment. _I_ am. And I have a bit of advice for you, gypsy boy."

Quatre reached behind him and caught his hand to the door, swinging it open. "Get out. I never asked for your advice, and I don't intend to listen to anything you have to say."

Suddenly the darker man loomed over him again, his arm pushing the door shut as he pulled Quatre around and drew the blond roughly back into the room.

"You'll listen," he growled. "You _will_ listen. I want you to stay away from Zechs Merquise."

"I will not."

"Listen to me, you willful little… I care about Zechs as much as I do Treize Khushrenada. I will not have you play one of them against the other in some little game of cat-and-mouse." His hands clasped Quatre's arms tightly, shaking him. "Are you so eager to bestow your favors on someone that you would choose the first man you meet… one old enough to be your father?"

Quatre swallowed a sharp gasp, realizing fully what the other man suspected him of doing. His eyes stung wetly, and he felt himself growing angered beyond reason. He swung at him, and Heero caught his wrist in a tight fist, pulling the blond roughly against him.

"Are you certain an old man can make you happy, _kawaii_?" His voice was a warning whisper. "Does he make you tremble the way I do? Does he make you feel like this?"

His kiss stole Quatre's breath. The feel of Heero's lips on his seemed to burn into his very soul. Quatre told himself he hated Heero. Yet at the same time his traitorous body could not move away, and he found himself savoring the taste of Heero's kiss. The darker man's touch was sweetly tortuous… and totally unrelenting.

Quatre's hands, against his will, went to Heero's wild burgundy hair. He had secretly longed more than once to touch it, to feel its crisp, clean texture in his fingers. And now he could not resist. Heero was making him do things he did not understand, making him feel things he'd never felt before.

When Heero finally pulled away, he took both Quatre's wrists in his hands and held the blond's arms down at his sides, firmly setting some distance between them. His breathing was coarse and hard, and there was an element of astonishment in his darkly beautiful eyes.

"Damn you," he cursed softly. "Why did you have to come here?"

He stalked from Quatre's room, leaving the blond trembling uncontrollably. Just as he had on that very first night, Quatre fisted his arms and sank to his knees on the floor, staring at the closed door as tears swam in his eyes.

He realized how wrong he had been about himself… and about his feelings toward Heero Yuy.


	18. Chapter Eighteen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Eighteen**

He couldn't sleep. The dark visions behind his closed eyes were too vivid and too disturbing.

He saw Heero, saw the stormy depths of his eyes and the angry look on his handsome face. He heard Heero's whispered words again and again. _"Damn you… damn you."_ And Quatre was torn between misery at his reproval and exultation at remembering his kiss.

He knew Heero had kissed him for all the wrong reasons; there had been no pretense of affection. He had meant to punish Quatre, to prove to the blond that his attentions to Zechs were wrong.

If only Heero knew how unnecessary it was. How could he imagine anyone would prefer Zechs to a man like himself? But of course, now more than ever, Quatre felt he could not let Heero see that. The blond dared not let him know how deeply he was affected by the darker man, by that searing touch.

Groaning, he flung the covers aside and went to stand at the windows. It was then that he saw the light again in the upper level of the castle. A quick jolt of energy raced through him as he stared at the dim, flickering lights.

The young gypsy had sensed from the beginning that all was not right in Rosemont Castle. It nothing he could put his finger on, exactly, more a feeling than anything else. There were too many words unspoken, too many glances that had gone unexplained. He couldn't be certain what it was, but instinctively he knew the light in the tower had something to do with it all.

Quatre left a lamp burning in his room and hurried into the deserted hallway and toward the wing of the castle where the tower stood. As he neared the library he hesitated. It was pitch dark there, and in the middle of the night that part of the castle was deserted.

He recalled the day they'd pulled Mariemeia from the hidden room here. As he opened he door and stepped inside he could not resist a glance toward the hidden panel. There was another mystery that had gone unexplained. As soon as his father was better, Quatre intended to ask him about the castle and whether there were underground passages.

Slowly he crossed the room to the narrow spiraling stairway that led to the tower. On the second landing there was a door. He opened it cautiously and was met immediately by a cool gust of wind. Quatre could see that this part of the tower was surrounded by four open breezeways; he approached one and looked down.

The wind in his ears made all other sounds impossible to hear. He looked for a moment upon part of the castle, able to see even in the darkness the number of gaunt chimneys and quaint dormers with their pyramidal dunce caps. There seemed to be large black holes in the rooftop, but on closer examination he saw it was only where the courtyards and gardens lay.

Another stairway led upward to the third landing and yet another closed door. This time Quatre did not open the door, but stood outside on the stairs, listening. He could see the light beneath the door and knew this was the room he had seen from across the way. He heard it then, the low rumble of another man's voice. Drawing in a quick breath he stepped back, afraid whoever it was would open the door and find him there.

But then he recognized the voice. It was Treize Khushrenada, his father, who spoke. The older man sounded mournful, almost prayerful, and Quatre could make out his words quite well.

"He's a wonderful boy, Leia. You would be proud of him. He seems to have all the qualities you held dear. I wish you could see him."

He was speaking of Quatre, and his words left the blond with a bittersweet ache in his heart.

"I'm going to stop drinking," he said, his voice coming nearer to the door. Quatre stepped back into the shadows, not wanting to be found there, spying on him. "He says I must do it for myself," Treize continued. There was a touch of laughter in his voice; "So I won't bother telling him that I could not do it if it weren't for him." He laughed aloud then, a sound that lifted Quatre's heart. "He has your spirit, my sweet, your stubbornness. He makes me feel alive again."

Quatre could hear his father's footsteps come close to the door, then turn and retreat again. Why had Treize come here? Was this a special place for him and Quatre's mother?

Treize's footsteps stopped. "I've come to bid you farewell, my sweet Leia," he said softly. "I will always love you, and for the first time I feel that wherever you are, you know that. I hold no more bitterness toward you or Rasid. I am at peace… and I want you to be. But Quatre Raberba is right; I have wallowed in my own pity for far too long. And I've hurt those who've loved and taken care of me. There was never anything between Hiromi and me, my love, not while I was married to you. But afterward, when you left… she was so wonderfully kind to me, so sweet and caring. And you know how much I loved her boy. Now it's time for me to repay them by being the kind of husband and father I should have been all along. It's no longer merely a duty, but something I want to do. Quatre Raberba made me see that… and that being sober is the only way I can accomplish it, the only way our lives will finally be happy. It's what I want… and I know you would want it for me too." There was a quiet resolution in his voice. There was sadness too, but more than anything Quatre heard the determination, the ring of strength in his words that told the blond he meant it.

"I won't come back to the tower, my sweet, to this place where we so often surveyed our home. But you chose another life, and now I must also. This room has too many memories of the past, and my life must now be for the future." His footsteps moved again toward the door.

Quickly Quatre ran down the stairs to the open air of the second level. He hid behind the stairwell there, waiting until his father had descended. He did not want to embarrass Treize by revealing he'd been overheard. Treize came slowly down the steps, pausing for a moment to glance out one of the open windows. Then, with a contented sigh, he opened the door and went down to the library.

So _he_ was the one who had come to the tower. Quatre wondered how many times in the past year his father had come here. But the blond's curiosity was not satisfied; he wanted to look at the room and see for himself where both his parents had stood in the early days of their marriage to gaze with pride over their own small kingdom.

Quatre let himself into the tower room. Because of the wide windows the tiny area was bright, allowing him to see the gleam of a nearby lamp. He lit the wick and turned with a sharply indrawn breath to an easel that stood in one corner of the enclosure.

He felt as though he was looking into a mirror. This portrait of his mother was very different from the first he had seen. There was a wild, erotic look to it - not only in her, but in the dark, windswept background as well.

Her hair was fashionably short, reaching just above her shoulders, but was blown back from her face by some fierce unseen wind. Her blonde curls looked wild and unruly, which explained the untamable attribute of Quatre's own hair. And in her eyes was a joyful mischief that was missing in the more staid, respectable portrait downstairs. Behind her the sky was black and stormy, illuminating the pale green rows of the vineyard. Quatre felt hypnotized by the painting, and by the woman.

Treize had placed the portrait here, in this special place. And he came here for comfort whenever he felt the need. Quatre wondered if Hiromi knew of this room, of his father's undying obsession. The entire upper room of the tower was like a small shrine to Leia's memory.

There was a sparkling cut-glass bottle standing in the midst of various pieces of jewelry upon a lacquered table. Quatre touched his fingers to its heavy glass cork, carefully lifting it away, and a poignant scent of orange blossoms was released, dominating the room. Tears filled his eyes as he turned back to the portrait, powerful memories of that same scent from somewhere long ago rising to the surface.

"Mother…"

He only barely resisted the impulse to steal the perfume bottle, if only to have her scent with him always. But he reluctantly replaced the glass cork and turned away.

Once back in his room, he blew out the lamp and climbed into bed. He wanted more than ever to find her, wherever she might have been. Of course, there was the possibility she had died. That was what Rasid had always said. But now he couldn't be certain that hadn't simply been a story his guardian had concocted to soothe a lonely child.

Quatre was determined to find her, but it was not something he felt he could burden his father with - not now, after Treize had said his final goodbyes to her. And Zechs was not familiar enough with this country to be of much help. That left only Heero. But how was Quatre to approach him after what had happened tonight?

Just thinking of the darker man made Quatre shiver beneath his covers - that, and the way Heero had kissed him. The blond would have to steel himself to confront the other man in a businesslike way and not let Heero see how he affected him. For he sensed Heero Yuy was the kind of man who enjoyed his power, enjoyed any advantage he might have over someone. He was bound to see and recognize Quatre's attraction to him. Quatre hated the thought of that being used against him.


	19. Chapter Nineteen

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Nineteen**

As he entered the dining room the next morning, his eyes went immediately to the man who'd haunted his subconscious throughout the night.

Heero was reading a newspaper and glanced up beneath his brows at Quatre. His blue eyes glinted darkly as they skimmed briefly over the blond. Then, with cool indifference, he went back to his newspaper.

Dorothy was staring at Quatre, her lips drawn together tightly in what appeared to be an attempt to keep her comments to herself.

"Quatre Raberba." It was only the warmth of Zechs' voice that broke into his thoughts. "Come, my boy, sit beside me here."

Just at that moment Treize came in, and on his arm was Hiromi. She was practically glowing, and he looked extremely satisfied with himself. Quatre was pleased to see that his walk was strong and confident.

It was the most companionable meal they'd had together since Quatre's arrival. He remained quiet, not wishing to disturb the new, fragile peace. He dared not bring up the subject of his wanting to meet the Demon. That was something he thought he should not mention to anyone, even though Zechs had urged him to tell Heero.

"What are your plans for today, dear?" Hiromi asked politely as she took her place at the table.

"I thought I'd go riding this morning, perhaps even visit Relena later." Quatre did not consider it a lie to omit that his course would take him to the mountain of the Demon.

"Heero, why don't you go with him?" Treize suggested. "You know the estate better than anyone. I'm sure he would be happy for you to show him around."

Slowly Heero's blue eyes lifted from the newspaper. He gazed first at Treize, then at Quatre. The blond could see he was not pleased with Treize's request.

"Th-that's not necessary," Quatre managed to stammer.

"Some other day, perhaps," Heero said tersely as he rose from his chair. "It looks as though we might have another spring storm, and I must see to the trellises before it rains." As he stood he shrugged his shoulders in a restless gesture, then folded the newspaper and lay it on the table. All the while he looked down at Quatre. "Besides, it won't be a morning fit for riding. Good day."

The blond stared down at his plate, embarrassed by the darker man's blatant coldness to him. He couldn't decide what angered Heero most about him. Was it that he claimed to be Treize's son, or was it because he had kissed Quatre?

The room grew quiet as Heero strode out the door.

"I'm sorry, my boy," Treize said quietly, looking at Quatre apologetically. "I'm afraid it will take Heero some time to come to terms with who you are."

"It's fine," he said, not knowing what else he could be expected to say. He couldn't tell Treize of the hole that was opening in his chest.

"I wanted to ask you something this morning," Quatre said, changing the subject.

"What is it?"

"I-I believe I will needing more clothes… of better quality… a-and suits."

Hiromi's eyes widened, and a bright smile lit her beautiful face. He could see she wanted to jump into the conversation, but she restrained herself and let Treize speak.

"I'm happy to hear that," the man said with a teasing smile. "Although I would love you just as much in your old gypsy clothes. But I must admit to some curiosity now, as to what you will look like. I predict you will be one of the finest gentlemen in the county."

Quatre smiled, relieved that he was not being met with the skepticism he had expected, and he turned to his father's wife. "Hiromi? Would you go with me? I know you must have a keen eye for this sort of thing, and I only have a limited amount of money…"

She clasped her hands together in excitement. "I would be delighted, Quatre Raberba. And I'm sure your father would agree that money is no object. He's a very generous man," she added, turning to him with a smile. "When shall we go?"

"Tomorrow is Saturday, and I've given my word to Mariemeia that we would do something together. Would it be all right if we took her with us?"

"That's very benevolent of you, dear, and of course I have no objections. Tomorrow it shall be. I will look forward to it."

Zechs was watching them, not saying anything. He smiled at Quatre, and the younger blond thought he saw a hint of sadness in his silvery eyes.

Later, when Quatre entered the stable, Trowa was nowhere in sight. Quatre went to Sandi's stall and saddled her himself. As he walked her out into the dappled morning sunlight, the air felt very warm and humid. He hoped Heero was mistaken about the rain. For a moment he felt hesitant about what he was doing and what would happen on the mountain. If Quatre did find the Demon, what would he say to him? Could he manage to get to the Demon's house without encountering the wolf?

With a silent prayer he climbed on Sandi's back, pulling her head around and out toward the vineyards. He saw a few workers as he passed through the green rows of the vineyard, but thankfully Heero was nowhere in sight.

When Quatre neared the stream, he let Sandi pick her way through the water and carefully across the slippery rocks. Then they headed up the hollow, which he thought would be the easiest way to the top of the mountain. There was a wide trail clearly visible beneath the tall, slender pines and rich green undergrowth of mountain laurel. About halfway up the steep ridge they came to a deep pool of water where the stream tumbled down the mountain. The loud rush of water from the small waterfall drew him to it, and Quatre dismounted and let Sandi drink her fill from the clear stream.

He was surprised to find that the trail led directly to a small log cabin at the top, surrounded by a wide clearing. It was very neat and clean-looking. Splashes of grey indicated that curtains hung at the windows. A short stone walk led to the thick door.

Quatre immediately looked about for the wolf, but thankfully did not see it anywhere. Still, the hair at the back of his neck bristled as he surveyed the dark green shadows of the forest. Sandi's head went up, and she pranced sideways. But then she was still, leaving Quatre to believe the wolf was nowhere nearby.

He looked again toward the cabin. He didn't want to leave, and even considered sitting for a while on the grass to wait. But the sky was growing darker, and the smell of rain was in the air. Heero had been right, after all; there was a storm brewing. And, knowing how quickly mountain storms could strike, Quatre pulled himself back into the saddle and urged Sandi away toward the path the led down the mountain.

Returning down the large, slippery moss-covered rocks was more treacherous. By the time they neared the bottom, great plops of rain had begun to fall. Sandi had never liked storms, and Quatre felt irritated with himself for not anticipating what would happen. Lightning began to split the humid air and the thunder that followed seemed actually to shake the earth.

When they got to the stream, the rain was coming in dense, windblown sheets. Sandi stumbled several times on the slick rocks but finally managed to cross. As they climbed onto the opposite bank, Quatre saw a horseman coming their way. It was raining so hard by then he could not normally have made out the rider, but he knew instinctively who it was. Heero's presence was as compelling and tangible as the electrical storm that crackled around them.

Without speaking Heero took Sandi's reins, pulling Quatre's mare with him downstream, away from the vineyard and away from the castle.

"Where are we going?" Quatre shouted through the wind and rain.

The darker man pulled the hood of his rain gear lower over his eyes. He did not speak, but only motioned with his arm. Through the pouring rain the blond saw their destination. There was a small grey shack at the southern end of the vineyard. Quatre had never ridden far enough to notice it before.

He thought perhaps others waited in the shelter of the old wooden shed, maybe some of the men he'd seen earlier. But as he looked into the building he realized there was no one else. He entered the darkened room of the shack, very much aware of their isolation. He was also awkwardly aware of his wet clothes that clung to him like a second skin.

After Heero had tied the horses under an extended roof section of the shed, he came in, closing the door and throwing the room into almost total darkness. Quatre could see the grayness of light through the slits in the walls and hear the thunderous sound of rain on the tin roof.

Heero stood at the door, making no effort to come near Quatre. He did not speak, but the blond could feel those compelling eyes on him.

Quatre was shivering uncontrollably, and not only from his rain-soaked clothes. He felt the darker man move, could feel the heat from Heero's body reaching toward him. The blond took a step forward before he could stop himself, but caught the toe of his boot against a crack in the floor and stumbled. Instinctively his hand went forward to catch his fall. But instead he collided against a strong body. He could feel the heat through the cold dampness of Heero's shirt, could hear the other's sharp intake of air.

Quatre should have moved then, but found he couldn't get his body to obey. Heero's hands came forward to grip his arms. The blond was shocked at the intensity of emotion that swept over him at the darker man's touch. He wanted Heero to kiss him again, wanted to know whether it would stir the same powerful feelings as before. He was not prepared for Heero's soft, hoarsely muttered words.

"Take off your shirt."

**_Author's Note: I apologize most deeply for the long delay. It is very difficult for me to find time anymore. Three nore chapters are being uploaded today. I will still have a way to go, but don't worry. We will get there. And please, don't hesitate to visit my profile and browse my other stories. I would like very much to hear from you._**


	20. Chapter Twenty

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty**

"What?"

He moved away from Quatre, and the blond heard his low grunt of humor. Then a quiet shuffling of noise, and the scratch of a striking match. The lamp he lit made a soft orange glow but gave off little light through its soot-blackened chimney. But it was enough for Quatre to see his face and the flash of humor in those dark blue eyes.

Quatre felt an overwhelming rush of humiliation. He had been so caught up by his feelings for Heero that the blond had not stopped to think he might not be experiencing the same thing.

"I only meant you should change out of your wet clothes, _warabe_," Heero said quietly as held out something shapeless toward Quatre.

_Warabe._ The man insisted on teasing him with that word, whatever it meant. Hearing it again brought a foul taste in the blond's mouth, and he narrowed his eyes in insulted anger.

"I'll close my eyes," Heero offered, a slow smirk tugging at his mouth.

_That_ got Quatre moving. Closing the distance between them in three long strides, he swung his fist, catching the darker man's jaw in a hard right hook. Heero reeled from the blow, taking a stumbling step backward, and Quatre grabbed the shirt from his hand before the other could retaliate, backing swiftly away to the other end of the room.

Yet Heero surprised him. Rubbing at his jaw, and the bruise that Quatre had no doubt planted there, the darker man gave a wider smirk and chuckled low under his breath. He knew he had finally struck a chord, and it seemed to give him great pleasure. "So," he taunted, tucking his hands in his pockets while Quatre shed his own shirt in exchange for the dry one. "What the devil are you doing way out here?"

"Something you probably would not approve," Quatre snapped.

"No doubt. But why don't you tell me anyway? Weren't you afraid you might run into the wolf again?"

"As a matter of fact, I hoped I would," he said as he finished buttoning the large shirt. It was obviously someone's workshirt, and it hung loosely about him.

"And why would that be?"

"I wanted to meet the man they call the Demon."

"Why?"

"Why not?

Heero took a long, slow breath and expelled it, the sound loud in the small room. "Don't play your games with me, _warabe_," he said. "You are not quite sophisticated enough with your lies to fool me yet. And your face hides nothing."

Quatre felt his eyes narrowing again, and he threw his fists into his pockets to keep from lashing out a second time. "Fine. But first, _you_ tell me what I did to make you hate me the way you do."

"On the contrary… I feel nothing for you one way or the other."

_Liar_. His impassioned oath - _"Damn you…"_ - still whispered in echo in Quatre's memory. Shaking his head, the blond answered, "I hoped he might tell me something of my mother. Before Rasid died, he wasn't able to tell me much. But he did manage to mention a name - Duo. In questioning people, Zechs has learned that is the name of the man who lives on the mountain."

"I see," Heero muttered thoughtfully, his accent pronounced. "So Zechs has offered to help you, has he?"

"So what if he has?"

He laughed again, a dry, mocking sound. "Perhaps you would not be so quick to defend him, _kawaii_, if you knew…"

"What?" Quatre retorted. "What could possibly be wrong about him?"

He made a low sound of disdain and quickly crossed the room, grabbing the blond by the arms and pulling him close. The steely glint in his eyes was cold and frosted with anger. "You little fool," he muttered. "Zechs was in love with Leia, too. Don't you know that - No…" He answered himself as he watched Quatre flinch in disbelief. "No, I can see you don't. Do you really care so much about Zechs? I can hardly believe it, not when you react to me as you do, not when your eyes grow so warm at my touch. I can feel you trembling even now."

"Stop it," Quatre hissed, pulling away from him and backing against the rough wall of the shed. "I've had enough. I won't let you hurt me anymore."

He moved slowly toward the blond, and came so close that Quatre could feel the other's thighs brush against his. "Hurt you, _kawaii_?" He whispered. "I could never hurt you. That is the real reason I'm telling you about Zechs. Can't you see that he is only using you to recapture what he once felt for your mother? You look so much like her…"

His hand moved forward to catch the blond's gypsy's tail, bringing it forth over Quatre's shoulder. Heero's eyes flashed strangely as he watched the golden strands slip from his fingers. "So… alluring…" He whispered as his head came down, blotting out the light from the flickering lamp.

There was a hunger in his kiss that even he could not deny, and this time there was no punishment in the touch of his lips. His fist caught at Quatre's gypsy's tail once again, fingers twining in its strands as though to pull the blond even closer; his body pushed Quatre hard against the rough boards of the building. When he pulled away, his mouth hesitated only an inch from Quatre's, their hard breathing mingling together in the silence.

"_Kawaii_," he moaned throatily against Quatre's lips. "What am I to do with you? You intoxicate me as surely as the wine…"

"Heero," the blond hissed, reaching to feel those lips on his again.

When Heero dragged his mouth away this time, Quatre was surprised to feel a tremor in the darker man's strong body. Shaking his head as though to clear it, he muttered an oath and stepped back and away. "Even so," he groaned, his voice hoarse with emotion. "You could be the son of a man I care a great deal about. I can't let myself forget that very important possibility."

He stepped to the door and opened it upon unused, squeaking hinges. The rain had almost stopped, but the breeze that wafted through the open doorway was colder now and filled with mist. He went outside and untied the horses.

When Quatre stepped outside to Sandi, Heero moved behind him. His hands slid over Quatre's stomach, pulling the blond back against his chest. He held Quatre tightly for a second, then released him and knelt down to give the blond a leg-up onto the golden mare before turning to mount his own horse.

They rode in silence. Heero's eyes moved to Quatre's several times, and he was unable to hide the passion they had just shared. Quatre knew the darker man wanted to forget it, could see it in the clenching of his jaw and the way he quickly looked away if Quatre happened to meet his gaze.

They rode into the warm shelter of the stable. Trowa was there now, and he came forward with a smile to take the horses. "Bad day for riding," he tsked, shaking his head. "You both look like you could use some dry clothes and something warm to drink."

"That we could," Heero said as he reached out to rub the shining skin of his horse. He glanced quickly at Quatre, then away.

Trowa whistled merrily as he took the horses toward the back of the stable. He spoke to them as if they were his children, whispering and cooing to keep them calm and agreeable.

Heero turned to Quatre, his eyes serious, and his voice was low and quiet. "Trowa's right. We'd better get some dry clothes. I hope next time I tell you it's going to rain, you will listen." There was a hint of his old arrogance in his voice.

"I will," Quatre said, not bothering to argue. "But… can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Will you take me to meet the man who lives on the mountain, the man named Duo? If there's a chance he knows anything…"

"Yes," he said simply, not needing Quatre to explain. "I'll go with you. Besides, it's probably the only way I can keep you out of trouble."

"I'm sorry I hit you, by the way."

"Don't apologize. I _was_ baiting you, after all." He turned away.

Quatre quickly caught the darker man's arm before he could go. "Heero… I won't pretend it didn't happen."

A frown appeared between Heero's brows as he realized what Quatre was talking about. "I'm afraid you'll have to," he muttered, gently pulling away. Without another word, he left the stable. The tiny hole in Quatre's chest ripped open a little wider.

The blond waited until Heero had disappeared into the castle, then he followed, running quickly across the rain-soaked ground. He stopped abruptly at the back door when he saw who was waiting for him.

Dorothy Une stepped forward, her voice quiet and her face twisted into a hateful sneer. "How dare you come into Hiromi's home looking like this! So… so _midarete imasu_!**(3)** Can't you see what a fool you are making of yourself? First your outrageous behavior with Zechs, and now with Heero. Do you really believe a man like Heero Yuy could ever care about someone like you? He will only use you, as men like him have always used trash like you. You are a whore, exactly like your mother!"

Quatre felt the rage rush through his veins at her words. Let her say what she wanted about him, but he would not stand and listen to her vicious lies about his mother. Stepping forward, he grabbed her by the shoulders and backed her up against the wall. He saw the unexpected fear in her eyes as he stepped close to her.

"Never say another word to me about my mother! Keep your mouth shut about her, do you hear me? Utter even one syllable about her, and I'll show you why people fear a gypsy's wrath!" Releasing her, Quatre brushed roughly past and shoved his way into the castle. He could see Sally's curious face as he passed through the kitchen and he knew the kindly woman had heard their raised voices.

All he wanted to do was get to his room, where he could be alone, away from all the disapproving glances and questioning looks. He needed to think about all that had happened today, and about the man he feared he was falling in love with.

3) _Midarete imasu_ = disheveled. The original translation in the book was French. Try translating something French into Japanese, it's a hell of a trial. I'm _still_ not sure I got it right…


	21. Chapter Twenty-One

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-One**

Quatre spent the remainder of the afternoon in his room. When Cathy came in with a steaming pot of tea and some of Sally aromatic spiced teacakes, he was only too glad for the distraction and urged her to stay a while.

The weather had grown quite cool - dogwood winter, the mountain people of Sanc had called it. Together Cathy and he built a fire in the small, ornate fireplace. The sound and smells of the fire lit the room cheerily, making even the rain and wind sound pleasant.

"Have tea with me, Cathy," he invited as he pulled a table before the fireplace.

"Oh, Mister Quatre, I mustn't. If the Lady Khushrenada should find out…"

"Hiromi? I'm sure she wouldn't mind. Besides, I feel closer to you than any of them."

She smiled brightly then, her eyes glittering in the firelight. She sat in a chair opposite him and poured the tea with a flourish. "Well, you probably shouldn't be saying such a thing. But I'm glad you feel that way. I like you, too." For once, Cathy's exuberance turned to shyness, and Quatre found it very sweet and charming.

"Tell me," he grinned. "How are things with your beau? Trowa, isn't it?"

"Did I tell you that?" She gasped.

"No, I guessed," he chuckled. "That look you get in your eyes when you speak about him looks good on you, by the way."

She dipped her head at his teasing, a faint rose coloring her cheeks. "He's asked me to marry him."

"That's great! What have you told him?"

"Well, I'm letting him sit awhile," she admitted mischievously. "But to tell you the truth I can hardly wait."

"I'm sure he can't, either."

Just then, the little clock on the mantel chimed four. Cathy looked at it, then virtually jumped from her chair. "Oh, I've got to get back downstairs! Lady Khushrenada wants me to help in the dining room tonight. I guess I'll see you then."

Quatre stood and walked with her to the door. "Actually, Cathy, I planned on having my dinner here in my room. I'll be taking an outing tomorrow with Hiromi, and I need to be up early." He couldn't tell her the real reason he didn't want to join the family for dinner, couldn't express how vulnerable and exposed Heero made him feel.

"An outing?" She asked with a glint in her eye. "Into town?"

"Yes, into town," he smiled. "And yes, I'll be looking to buy new clothes for myself."

She clapped her hands with a soft giggle. "I can't wait. I just know you'll be one of the handsomest men in the county! Well, listen, I'll bring you a supper tray later, before I begin in the dining room."

When she did bring the tray later, she was much too busy to talk. Quatre ate quietly before the fireplace and then read awhile before going to bed. It was a perfect night. The rain splattered pleasantly upon the windows and a strong wind sighed and whispered around the castle. Sometimes it almost sounded like voices crying and moaning eerily through the halls.

Before long his eyes grew heavy, and he reached out sleepily and turned out the bedside lamp. He fell immediately into a deep sleep, hardly moving at all. And he began to have strange, disturbing dreams.

He thought he was in the tower, surrounded by his mother's things. It was dark and oddly unreal, as though he floated above the floor. He didn't know how it had happened, but suddenly he was afraid. He wanted to run, to get away, but his feet felt leaden and would not move. He knew in his mind that it was a dream, but could not seem to wake himself.

That was when he heard it, a quiet, rasping whisper of a voice from out of the darkness.

"Quatre Raberba," the voice sighed. "We need to talk."

He spun about in the darkness, but could see nothing. "Get away from me!"

"Quatre. Quatre Raberba…"

He woke then and sat straight up in bed. His heart was racing, pummeling so loudly within his chest that he seemed to hear its echo in the room. A shadow stood at his bed, dark and shapeless, with what appeared to be long cinnamon hair cascading over its shoulder as it loomed over him.

Quatre couldn't breathe. Then, as though suddenly recalling his own faculties, he drew in a great gasping breath. "Get out!" He shouted. "Get out, get away from me!"

The spectre backed away quickly, and Quatre did not stop shouting until it turned and fled from his room, leaving the door wide open.

The blond was shivering quite badly when he heard footsteps running toward his room. Heero came in first. He looked around the room and then stepped toward Quatre. He was dressed in a dark robe and his hair was messier than usual, as if he had just jumped out of bed.

"What's wrong?" He asked, "Was it you shouting?"

Treize and Hiromi were close behind him. Hiromi lit one of the lamps and turned up the wick until the light brightened the room.

"There was someone here!" Quatre cried, trying even as he spoke to quiet the hammering of his heart.

"What do you mean, son?" Treize came closer, even as Hiromi sat beside Quatre on the bed. "Did you see someone?"

"I-I thought I was dreaming… I heard someone call my name. But it was r-real; when I woke he was here, s-standing over me."

"He?"

"I don't imagine a woman could have cast such a shadow," Quatre whispered.

"But what you say is impossible, dear," Hiromi said, reaching forth to pat his hand comfortingly. "All the doors are bolted at night. How could someone possibly have gotten into the castle? And how could they know your name?"

He frowned. That was something he had not considered. He glanced at Heero, who was watching Quatre with a guarded expression. The bruise he had given Heero earlier that day already seemed to have faded to a light red mark on the side of his jaw, and Heero appeared to have forgotten it was even there. The darker man ran his fingers through tousled burgundy strands and walked to the window.

Treize laughed softly and set a hand to Quatre's shoulder. "It was only a dream, my boy. You must have been dreaming; some dreams can seem quite real."

"No," he said firmly. "I know what I saw. I'm almost certain I've seen his shadow before."

Heero turned from the window, his look serious. "I'll check the castle downstairs, and the grounds."

"Come now, Heero," Treize protested. "There's no reason for you to go out in this miserable weather. I'm certain Quatre Raberba will realize it was only a dream. Things seem worse in the darkness of midnight. Tomorrow he'll see…"

"It won't hurt to look," Heero said rather brusquely. "I don't mind indulging him this once." His eyes flickered briefly over to Quatre and the blond thought he saw a hint of sympathy there.

Treize and Hiromi stayed with Quatre, making small talk and trying to reassure him that he was safe. Heero was not gone long. When he stepped quietly back into the room, Quatre could see the glisten of rain in his dark hair. The darker man lifted one shoulder in a shrug: "Nothing."

"See?" Treize said. "I told you there was nothing to be anxious about. But if you would like us to stay a bit longer…"

"No," Quatre shook his head, embarrassed. "There's no reason to disturb the rest of your night. I'll be fine."

"Are you sure, dear?" Hiromi asked softly, squeezing his hand.

"Yes."

"Then goodnight, son," Treize said. "Coming, Heero?"

"In a minute," he answered distractedly.

After they had gone, he pulled a chair close beside the bed and sat down. His blue eyes, dark in the shadowy room, looked up to meet the blond's gaze. "He might have known you were at his house today," he said softly.

Quatre stared. _Duo?_ Had he truly been visited upon by the Demon?

"There's nothing to be afraid of, even if it was he. I told you before, he's just a man living in isolation. I'm sure he meant you no harm."

"Then… y-you believe me?"

Heero smiled then. "Don't let it go to your head, but yes… I believe you."

The blond sighed, not realizing how tense he had been until he felt his shoulders relax. "It's a damned relief to hear that. I feel out of place with everyone else in this castle. I have to be careful all the time not to misstep myself; everything I say has been questioned-" He cut himself off, glancing up at the man before him. Heero's eyes had grown dark as he listened to Quatre's words.

"I'm sorry," the blond muttered. "I didn't mean to say all that…"

"No, it's all right," Heero said, lifting a hand to tuck Quatre's wild golden hair behind his ear. "I suppose I've only looked at one side of this issue. I've assumed all along that you were not Quatre Raberba. But if you are… and I'm not saying I believe it yet… if you are, then I guess I haven't realized what a hard experience it has been for you."

Their eyes met for a long moment, and then Heero stood with a sigh. "I should go."

"Do you have to?"

"You know as well as I that I should." His smile was kind; there was no condemnation in his voice, no anger. "Will you be all right?"

"Yes."

Heero looked at him and for a moment Quatre thought he might not go. Then he turned on his heel and went to the doorway, stopping to look back at the blond. "I'll lock the door."

Quatre sank against his pillow with a quiet groan after he was gone, lost now in the touch of Heero's hand and the way the darker man had looked at him, remembering the way the open collar of Heero's shirt looked beneath the dark lapels of his robe, how it emphasized the coffee-toned skin of his throat and chest. The blond found himself shivering again. And this time it was not from fear or cold, but some unexpected longing he could not explain.


	22. Chapter Twenty-Two

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

He fell asleep again sometime near dawn, just as the birds began to rustle and sing in branches of the huge old oaks surrounding the castle. He didn't wake again until mid-morning. Remembering the outing, he jumped hurriedly from his bed and bathed quickly. He dressed once again in his old clothes, telling himself it would be for the last time.

He found Hiromi in her room, sitting peacefully in a rocking chair near the window. A basket of sewing was in her lap. She glanced up at him with a patient smile. "Ah, there you are. Are you feeling better?" She asked with a touch of concern in her eyes.

"Yes, thank you," Quatre said. "I hope I haven't inconvenienced you by sleeping so late."

"Of course not, dear," she smiled. "It is your trip, and I was only too happy to let you sleep after your terrible night. Have you eaten yet? Let me have Chang bring you some breakfast."

"No, please," he shook his head before she could rise from her chair. "That's not necessary. Just give me a minute to run into the kitchen and then I'll be ready."

She nodded. "I'll tidy myself up a bit and meet you in the entry hall."

Quatre could smell the aroma of baking bread in the hallway before he reached the kitchen. The scent made his stomach growl. Sally was just pulling a pan from the oven and she looked up as he came in. "Well, child, where have you been? I've hardly spoken to you since that first day. Are you feeling all right?"

"Yes, ma'am, I'm fine. But I'll admit to being a bit hungry; I could smell the biscuits all the way down the hall."

She laughed. "I'm always glad to hear someone appreciating my cooking. Set yourself down here. I'll get the butter out of the cooling well." She brought a blue earthenware dish that contained a mound of pale creamy butter glistening with moisture. Then she poured tea for Quatre, and coffee for herself, and sat across from him.

"I've been wanting to talk to you, anyway," Sally said.

"What is it?" He asked, swallowing a sip of hot tea.

"I heard what that woman said to you yesterday… that Dorothy. Pay her no mind, lad. She didn't know your mother at all."

"D-did _you_?"

"She was a fine woman, I can tell you that. Everyone thought the world of her. Now, I don't know why she felt she had to leave, but there must have been good reason. Because she loved you and your father more than anything in the world. And don't let anybody tell you any different."

Quatre had the tiniest bit of trouble swallowing his mouthful, due to the sudden lump in his throat. His eyes stung wetly, but he blinked back the tears as he looked up and met her gaze. "Thank you, Sally, for saying that."

She reached across and patted his hand. "Just telling the truth. Now, you'd best not keep the Lady Khushrenada waiting much longer. Besides, we can't wait to see you in all your new finery."

Wufei was coming down the hallway toward the kitchen just as Quatre was rushing out, and the blond nearly collided into the man in his haste. But Wufei was apparently very light on his feet, for he twisted his body back against the wall in the last instant, his mouth quirking in amused recognition as he allowed Quatre to pass. "Morning, young sir."

"Good morning, Wufei," he laughed, passing him by. "Goodbye, Wufei!"

The man turned in the hallway to watch him go. Wufei was smirking and shaking his head as if in disapproval. But Quatre knew better.

Hiromi was waiting for him in the entry hall. She looked beautiful, with her shining brown hair brushed upward beneath a little hat of red. Her dress was of some delicate shimmering material that looked expensive. It was navy, with narrow stripes of red that ran down the skirt and outlined the narrow collar. A row of tiny red buttons went from her collar to a point just below her waist.

"Do you like it?" she asked, turning around and holding out the skirt as she saw his look.

"Yes," Quatre breathed. "Y-you look…"

Her smile grew as she realized he was at a loss for words. "Why, thank you, dear. But today is about _you_, so let's see what we can't do with it, shall we?" She took a delicate ruffled umbrella from a stand near the door. It was made of the same striped material as her dress.

The rain and fog had cleared, although moisture still dripped from the trees along the road way. Sometimes their carriage would brush a limb, sending a spray of raindrops into the air around them. The pale rays of the sun turned the drops into sparkling dots of crystal.

They stopped at the orphanage for Mariemeia. She was ready and waiting for them. When they pulled to the door, she ran out and was stopped by one of the matrons. The woman laughed at her, whispering something into her ear, then gave her a little push toward the carriage.

Mariemeia walked decorously to the carriage and stepped inside like a delicate little doll. They waved to the matron as they pulled away and settled Mariemeia beside Hiromi on the soft leather seat.

"What did she say to you, beautiful?" Quatre asked from his seat opposite them.

She looked at him shyly. "She said to remember that I was a lady, and that ladies don't run."

It was a perfect day. Quatre almost forgot the terror of the previous night in the warm glow of the spring morning. Hiromi surprised him with her spontaneity and good-natured laughter. Away from the gloom of the castle she was a different person. The only time the blond saw her become upset was when the man in the small tailor shop took off his glasses and looked Quatre over with a smirk of disbelief.

"Mister Clemons," Hiromi said quietly in her coolest, most sophisticated voice. "This is Quatre Raberba Khushrenada, Treize Khushrenada's son. I'm sure you will want to take very special care of his needs."

"Yes… Yes, Lady Khushrenada," the man stammered. "Yes, of course."

They spent hours in the shop, picking out the finest materials, taking Quatre's measurements… He was turned and prodded, looked at from head to toe. Mariemeia giggled nearly nonstop at his obvious discomfort, and when Hiromi insisted on buying two dresses for her as well, the little girl seemed ready to burst with joy.

It was a busy day, and when it ended and they took Mariemeia home, all of them were happily exhausted.

"Goodbye, beautiful," Quatre called as they drove away. "I'll see you again next week."

"She's a sweet child," Hiromi said as she leaned wearily back against her seat.

"Thank you for being so kind to her."

"Think nothing of it," she said modestly. "I wish I could help all the children at the orphanage. I know what it is like to be alone, without a home…" She broke off, looking at him with a tremulous little smile. "I suppose you've wondered about your father and me."

"Yes," he said simply. "I have. I'm afraid I chewed him out about you. Did he tell you?"

"Yes, he did. And he apologized to me for all the years of neglect."

"I suppose I was too blunt…"

"No, dear," she shook her head. "I should thank you. I believe you are a miracle, come to save us."

Quatre frowned at her, waiting for her teasing laughter to follow.

"I'm serious," she said. "If you had not come, your father probably would have died with the melancholy still upon him. And I'd have felt guilty for the rest of my life because I could not help him."

"Th-then things are better… between the two of you?"

"Yes," she said in a breathless little whisper. "Better than I ever dreamed possible." She paused, smiling. "Of course, it will take time. He's still terribly weak and in poor health from the years of neglecting himself. And there may be days when he will fall back into his old habits. I pray not, but he might. I only wish… I mean, I'd like you to consider me family, too. Is that asking too much? I know I can never take your mother's place…" She stopped and looked down at her hands in her lap, as though afraid she'd said too much.

"Hiromi. I already consider you family." He shrugged, embarrassed. "You and Zechs are the only ones who… who welcomed me as openly as my father."

"The others will come around, dear… Heero, too." It was as though she could read his thoughts.

They said no more about it the rest of the way home, but enjoyed the warm spring day. The back of the buggy was loaded with packages, and more would be delivered after some final adjustments were made.

They had just entered the hall when Wufei came hurrying toward them. "Mister Quatre Raberba," he panted. "Mister Yuy wishes to see you as soon as you arrive. He's in the library."

Quatre glanced at Hiromi, who smiled and nodded. "I'll see you at dinner," she said. "Please don't forget; I'm sure your father will love to see you in your new clothes."

The blond went directly to the library and knocked on the door. Despite the bright spring day, the library as usual was dark and bathed in shadow. The small windows let in almost no light, and the dark wood panels seemed to absorb what little there was.

Heero stood near the fireplace with a sheaf of papers in his hands. He turned as Quatre came in, and the look in his eyes was different that the blond had seen before. He felt a lurch in his stomach, wondering whether the darker man was angry with him for some reason.

"Heero?"

"How was your trip?"

"Fine. What's wrong?"

He laughed softly, "You do believe in getting straight to the point, don't you?"

"Blame it on living with a caravan of gypsies who enjoy picking into each other's secrets."

"Is that so? Interesting," he said. He sat on the corner of the large desk and then tossed the sheaf of papers onto it. "The investigation is complete."

"And?"

"And… I'm afraid it's inconclusive as far as proving who you are. Rasid Darlian was indeed the man who raised you, and he did take Treize's son away from Rosemont. He was seen only a few weeks later traveling in a caravan with a young child whom he claimed as his son. But as far we can tell, Rasid raised you alone. The question still remains as to what happened to Leia Khushrenada. Did Rasid take the son to her and help them to escape somehow? It would seem likely, would it not? And if he did, then who are you?"

"You're making this more complicated than it needs to be."

"How so?"

"You have proof Rasid took Quatre Raberba. I spent my entire life with him, so I must be that child."

Heero gazed at him noncommittally.

"Oh," Quatre muttered. "That's right, you don't believe me."

"Then what happened to Leia? No one who knew her would believe she freely gave up her only child."

"I-I don't know… I barely remember her. Rasid always told me my mother was dead."

"When we first met you said you didn't remember her."

"And I didn't, then. But something recently has helped me to remember."

"What was it?"

"Her perfume. I found a bottle of her perfume, and the scent brought back a few memories. I do remember her. I remember her holding me, and I remember the scent of orange blossoms."

Heero looked at him for a long while, slowly asking, "And where did you come upon this perfume bottle?"

"In the tower," Quatre admitted, seeing no reason to lie.

"Treize's shrine," he nodded with a little snort of derision. "And did you see the portrait?"

"Yes." The blond looked at him oddly, noting the change in the darker man's tone of voice.

"What did you think of it?"

"Well, I… I thought she looked so alive in the picture, so vibrant and…" The knowing glint in Heero's gaze caused him to break off.

"Sensual? Erotic?"

"Y-yes, I suppose."

"Zechs painted it."

Quatre's mouth dropped open in surprise. "What?"

"Yes, _warabe_," the darker man said with a slow, arrogant smirk. "Zechs, your quiet, staid gentleman. _He_ painted that torrid portrait of Leia one hot summer when he visited here. You saw in his work what I told you before, didn't you?"

He had said Zechs was in love with Quatre's mother, but the blond had not wanted to believe it. But now there was no way to deny it. In the wildness of the portrait was a sensual, pleasure-loving woman who seemed to be looking with teasing, loving eyes at the artist. Zechs' own vision, the way he had chosen to see Quatre's mother.

Quatre felt his legs grow weak, and he stumbled back and collapsed into a chair. "I can't believe it…"

"Believe it, _kawaii_."

After a long moment, he lifted his head and focused his gaze upon the darker man before him. "I had intended to ask you… about my mother. Was there any news of her during the investigation?"

Heero stood and walked around the desk toward him. "Nothing. It's as if she vanished from the face of the earth. There were no reports of her anywhere after that last day she was seen here at the castle."

Drawing in a slow breath, Quatre lowered his head again, disappointed and more than a little hurt by the lack of information.

Heero reached forward and lifted the blond's chin, sinking to his knees before the blond to look deep into his eyes. "I almost believe you care, _warabe_."

"She's my mother," Quatre snapped in a fierce whisper. "Of course I'd care."

The darker man gave an unexpectedly tender look. "I'll make a deal with you, then."

"What kind of deal?"

"I will say nothing negative about the investigation to Treize. He's already said he believes you to be his son, so I'll let him continue to believe it. I will say nothing else to dispute your claim. As you said, after all, it's a distinct possibility - even though it was not proven."

"All right," Quatre said slowly, leaning back into the chair with narrowed eyes. "A-and what would you want in return?"

A slow smirk crossed his face as he surveyed the faint flush of color in the blond's face. "Candid, as always." He stood, drawing back a step to put a respectable bit of space between them. "But no… I'm not in the habit of bargaining for that. It might surprise you to know that when I take a lover, it is because they want it as much as I do."

Heero turned and walked around to the sheaf of papers. He tossed them into the fireplace and lit a match to them. "What I want," he said, turning around again, "is your promise that if you're lying, you will never reveal that lie to Treize."

"I'm not lying!" Quatre shouted, jumping to his feet. "Why can't you get over yourself and accept that?"

"If you _are_ lying, you must never tell him, do you hear me? It's too late for that now… it would kill him." He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the stonework of the fireplace. "He's coming out of the darkness for the first time in years. And as much as I hate to admit it, we owe that to you. All I ask is that you behave as his son, with love and respect to both him and my mother."

There was a hint of pain, of vulnerability, in Heero's dark blue eyes that he couldn't hide in that instant. It surprised Quatre, as well as his own sudden, strong urge to erase that look of pain forever.

"I promise."

**_Author's Note: Omigod, still not there yet? Had faith, mine readers!_**


	23. Chapter Twenty-Three

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

When Quatre entered the dining room that evening, the chandeliers were lit and the candles flickered with a pale lustre on the people gathered there. Everyone turned at his entrance, and the sound of their conversations stopped.

His eyes immediately sought Heero's. The darker man's gaze narrowed as they swept over Quatre's dark brown dress pants and gleaming bronze silk shirt. Even the distance between them could not disguise the look in those eyes. There was a veiled hunger that made a quiver run down Quatre's spine.

Slowly the darker man parted from the rest and came toward him. His eyes smoldered as he gazed at Quatre with that steady look of amusement Heero seemed to reserve for him alone. "You leave me speechless, _kawaii_."

"Are you laughing at me?"

The other paused in the face of Quatre's accusation, but then reached forward to briefly cradle the blond's jaw in his hand. The smoldering gleam in his eyes gentled, and his mouth quirked in a slow smirk.

"Never," he whispered.

He dropped his hand away, and they moved to the table. Hiromi smiled broadly at Quatre, nodding her approval of the way he looked. The blond sat across from her, with Treize at the end of the table, between them. Treize seemed very proud of Quatre.

The blond seemed to be the center of attention for the rest of the evening. Zechs had brought another wine from the wine cellar, a rosé this time, which Quatre only liked a little better. He knew then that he had been right - he loved the vines, but wine was just something for which he would never acquire a taste.

After dinner, Relena came and hugged him, making a big fuss about his appearance and his new clothes. Her mother nodded approvingly but did not approach him. The blond hoped he had not offended her the last time he'd seen her by riding off with Zechs.

Dorothy had said nothing to him all evening. When she approached him, Quatre threw his hands into his pockets, adjusting his stance to appear casual so as not to alarm the other guests. He was still angry about the ugly way the woman had spoken of his mother, but this was not the time or place to give in to his short temper.

"Well," she said beneath her breath, smiling pretentiously. "You seem to have enchanted all of Rosemont Castle."

"I doubt it," Quatre replied pleasantly, hiding the fact that his hands were itching to leave his pockets. "There aren't so many here to impress, anyway."

"Oh, you're wrong. There are many - Heero's loyal manservant Wufei; Sally, Wufei's wife; Trowa in the stables and the maid Cathy… not to mention several of the household who think you are an angel come from heaven." Her voice was soft but harsh and sarcastic. "But your father is the one who has been charmed the most. Can't you see that? You've captured his attention and his heart just as firmly as the traitorous Leia ever did." She continued to smile. But if it fooled those around them, it didn't fool Quatre.

"I told you before, I will listen to nothing else you have to say about her." The blond turned to walk away, but felt her hand catch his arm. When he turned back, her eyes were flinty and cold.

"Don't think you will ever become the master of this estate, my high-and-mighty little orphan. Hiromi has devoted herself to your father and to the running of this household. I will not have you come here now to take it from her." Her voice, though low and quiet, was trembling with rage.

"Whoever said I wanted to?" The blond hissed, jerking his arm free and leaving her there.

Heero caught up with him quickly, and Quatre knew the darker man had seen Dorothy's angry confrontation but had not heard her caustic remarks. "What was that about?"

He shook his head, glancing about to see if anyone else had noticed. "To be honest… she seems to hate me. She thinks I want to replace your mother somehow, to push her out of Treize's life."

"She's always been protective of Mother. I suppose it's because of the hard life they'd lived before."

"I know," Quatre said, sighing as his hands finally began to calm inside his pockets. "But Heero, I like your mother. I would never…"

"I believe you, _warabe_," the darker man murmured, his look quiet and serious. After a moment, his mouth tugged in a small smile. "I told Treize that the investigation did not prove anything conclusive. And as I expected, he chose to take it as a positive sign that you really are Quatre Raberba."

"I know you don't want to hear this. But I believe I am."

"I know you do," Heero said. But then his smile turned suddenly wicked, "Have I told you how engaging you look tonight?" He glanced down, taking in the sight of Quatre's new shoes. "I wonder what you've done with your muddy boots?"

"Why?" Quatre asked, feigning suspicion.

"No real reason, I suppose. I only hope you won't throw them away. It would be quite boring if you started living predictably by the expectations of society."

"And what makes you think I'd ever follow anyone's standards but my own?"

"Of course, how could I have forgotten?" Heero shook his head, rubbing pointedly at his jaw with a teasing frown. "Ware the wrath of a gypsy!" He moaned, coaxing a surprised laugh from the blond.

Despite the pleasant evening, Quatre grew tired. When he finally went upstairs to his room, he felt very pleased with himself. He had managed to get through the evening with no major mistakes.

The evening had completely erased any thoughts of the man who had come to his room the night before. And he trusted Heero when the darker man said the Demon meant him no harm. So he did not think to lock his bedroom door.

Sometime in the middle of the night a sound penetrated his dreams. His eyes flew open and he felt immediately awake. He lay for a moment, wondering at the sound he had heard. Had it come from outside? Or had he only imagined it? He sat up in bed and looked about the room. It was very dark, as he had left no lamp burning; but then he heard it again, a quiet shuffling sound. And it was here… in his room.

"Who is it?"

Suddenly from the dark came a laugh, coarse and sexless. The sound of it sent a chill crawling up toward the back of his neck. The laugh came again, and he heard footsteps coming toward him. The door opened, throwing the light from the hallway across the figure who stood gazing back at him. It was the looming shadow again, tall and shapeless.

It moved, lifting an arm, pointing its finger at him.

"Leave this castle," it rasped. "Leave now, before it is too late."


	24. Chapter Twenty-Four

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

Quatre must have blacked out under the force of his fear, because the next thing he knew he could hear Heero's voice and feel strong arms circling around him. He was pulled against a warm chest, and soothing words were whispered into his ear.

He blinked, coming back to himself, and lifted his head to meet the other's steady gaze. It was still dark in the room, but he could see the glimmer of Heero's eyes as he returned Quatre's stare. "What happened?" He asked quietly.

The blond looked around the room, unable to believe the shadow had already left. But the room stood empty. "Wh-where are Treize and your mother?"

At that moment someone appeared in the doorway behind Heero. It was Wufei. He carried a small kerosene lamp, which he placed on a table near the door. The light reflected upward, showing the alarm in his obsidian black eyes.

Heero turned to him, drawing slightly away but still holding Quatre by the shoulders. "Wufei, would you get Treize and bring him here?"

The man's eyes flicked away. "He… he's asleep now, Mister Yuy. He was feeling poorly tonight, as I understand."

Quatre heard Heero utter an oath under his breath. "And my mother? Where is she?"

"I don't exactly know, sir," Wufei admitted quietly. "She's not in her room."

"Very well," Heero muttered on a sigh. "Light the lamps here and then go back to bed."

Any other manservant would not have been able to resist a bout of curiosity, and would have taken more time than necessary in the hope of learning anything worth gossiping about. But it seemed Wufei's loyalty to Heero was unquestioning - he went about his task quickly and efficiently, then took up his own lamp and closed the door behind him as he left.

Heero turned again to Quatre. "Now… tell me."

"He was here again," the blond spilled in a rush. "And this time he threatened me - told me to leave here before it was too late."

He looked bewildered as he listened; shaking his head, he lifted a hand from Quatre's shoulder to rake his fingers through his dark hair. "But this doesn't make sense," he slowly muttered. "I know him; he would never do something like this."

Suddenly his eyes fixed upon the chair, and the clothes Quatre had left there. Standing, the darker man strode to it and gathered the silk bronze shirt into his fist. Even from the bed and in the dim lamplight, Quatre could see that his new shirt was now nothing more than a tattered mess of scraps that hung from Heero's hand. There was such a look of outrage in Heero's eyes that it compelled the blond more than did the slashed shirt.

Heero shook his head as though unable to believe what he had found. Then his eyes lifted to Quatre. "We will go to see him tomorrow, you and I together. I intend to put a stop to this no matter what it takes." His vow was made through clenched teeth, and Quatre did not doubt its sincerity.

It was almost morning when he left. The blond could see Heero was worried about his mother - though Quatre himself felt that perhaps Hiromi had gone to be with Treize, to allay her own concern about his health.

~o~

Lunch the next day was a stiff, awkward affair. Treize tried to act as though nothing was wrong, but the strain was evident between him and Hiromi. Afterward Heero told Treize that he and Quatre were going for a ride. His only reaction was a quiet, sad smile. The blond was certain his father knew how worried they all were for him, and he supposed Treize felt angry with himself or having taken to the bottle again so soon.

When Quatre came outside, he found Heero waiting with the horses outside the stable. The darker man watched him as he approached, and Quatre was all too aware of the way those blue eyes darkened as they raked over him. Heero did not bother to disguise his look, but let his eyes assess the blond boldly.

Quatre felt a flush of warmth coloring him beneath his collar, suddenly unable to meet the other's gaze. Heero gave a quiet laugh, likely very aware of what he was making the blond feel.

As they rode through the vineyard, Heero pointed out the variety of grapes, commenting on their flavor or the color of the wine they produced. Quatre found it all irresistible, much more so than when Zechs had brought him here. But then, he supposed that was because of whose company he was in this time. He could no longer deny his growing attraction to Heero, and he found himself watching the darker man constantly, aware of Heero's every smile, every enthusiastic phrase that passed his sensuous lips.

"You love it, don't you?" Heero said suddenly.

"What…?" Quatre had been so caught up in the look of the other man, that he hadn't been aware of what Heero was saying.

Heero laughed, clearly enjoying the blond's lapse. "The vineyard, seeing the vines grow and blossom with fruit… there's nothing like it. I only meant it's obvious that you enjoy it as much as I do."

"Yes," Quatre admitted, returning his smile. "It's something I can't quite explain, but I was drawn to it the first time I came here." He took a deep breath and gazed at the lush greenery that surrounded them and whispered softly in the breeze. "I-I love the earthy smell of the vineyard, the warmth of the wind out here in the open; I love the sound the wind makes as it rustles through the leaves."

The darker man's look was quiet and knowing, as if he had thought the very same things himself. "Wait until harvest. You'll never want to leave."

As they approached the trail up the mountain Quatre's heart beat a little faster; his stomach felt full of lead, and his mouth was dry. Heero glanced at him several times but said nothing. Once they had passed through the dark, cool hollow and reached the crest of the mountain, he stopped, turning in his saddle to look at Quatre. "Are you afraid?"

Quatre's first impulse was to lie. He hated to admit just how unnerved he was by the whole ordeal, even if meeting the Demon _had_ originally been his idea. But something in Heero's look kept him from it. Besides… he knew the darker man could see right through him, and he sensed Heero Yuy was not a man to tolerate liars.

"Yes."

Heero reached a hand across to briefly cradle the blond's jaw. "I won't let anything happen to you, _kawaii_."

The small log cabin looked the same. Heero tied the horses beneath a tree on the edge of the neat yard. Then he set his hands to Quatre's waist and pulled him close. Quatre shifted against him, unable to help himself. The darker man made a soft noise in his throat, a sound of humor but also of regret. He seemed to feel the tension that passed through them, just as Quatre did - and he, too, seemed to need to remind himself why they were there.

The place was completely silent, and Quatre felt an uneasiness begin to spark up his spine. Suddenly, as they neared the cabin, a blur of black flew from around the house… the wolf. It stopped, its powerful muscles tensed and ready to spring as its dark eyes stared at them.

Heero stepped in front of Quatre, reaching back silently until his hand touched the blond's arm. The gesture was protective, and Quatre pressed closer to his back.

"Shinigami!" Heero said in a low command. The wolf did not move, but its ears came forward the slightest bit.

"Behave yourself," he added firmly. "Stay."

The wolf whined and lowered its belly to the ground. Quatre was amazed to see the slow, friendly wave of its tail as it brushed against the grass. The animal gazed up at Heero with a sad, almost apologetic look in its alert eyes.

From the back corner of the cabin, the blond saw another movement. He was certain it was the man they had come to visit. But, seeing Quatre, he disappeared again behind the cabin, out of sight.

Heero saw him, too. "Duo," he called. "Come on out, we want to talk to you." When the Demon did not show himself, Heero heaved a sigh and then pitched a bit of mockery into his voice: "Duo… you're not _afraid_, are you?"

His words were surprising, so different from the way he had asked Quatre, so taunting.

The black wolf whined and reached its paws out on the grass as it inched its way toward the two of them. The blond stepped back, still not trusting the big animal. But Heero's hand squeezed his arm before slowly pulling Quatre around to stand beside him.

"He won't hurt you. But don't run from him, or let him see that you're nervous." He looked back toward the rear of the house. "Duo, this is getting ridiculous. There's someone here who wants to meet you. But if you're not going to show yourself-"

"All right, fine!" A surprisingly young male voice hollered, sounding more than a little annoyed.

A shapeless black shadow stepped out from behind the house, and as it drew near Quatre saw that it was a man in tatters. He looked like a shadow that had risen up from the earth. He wore black trousers and an overly large black shirt, both torn so badly they were little more than scraps that hung loosely about his body. He was barefoot. His long hair reached below his waist in glistening cinnamon cascades that gleamed almost red in the sunlight. The sun also glinted from something else, something metallic hanging from around his neck - a small gold crucifix, the sight of which taking Quatre by surprise.

When there was but a handful of paces between them, he paused. And Quatre could not help but stare at the man's heart-shaped, cherubic face, so young and flawless, despite the countless years gazing back at them from within his eyes… eyes that shone a deep, pure amethyst in color. Was this why he hid himself here on the mountain - his ageless face, and those strange eyes? Was this what Heero had meant when he called the Demon a man in isolation that was 'different?'

The man propped a fist upon his hip as he glared at Heero. "Why couldn't you get a clue and pretend I wasn't here?"

"We could do that," Heero offered challengingly. "We'll leave right now."

He rolled his strange eyes. "Shinigami. Hunt."

The wolf relaxed immediately, getting up on its feet and shaking itself before trotting away. The Demon finally turned his eyes upon Quatre, and he dropped his fist from his hip. "Hey…"

"Hello," the blond replied, feeling unaccountably shy. "Your name's Duo?"

"Yeah."

"I'm…"

"Yeah, I know you. Quatre Raberba." A small grin quirked at his mouth, before it was gone again; "I'd know you anywhere."

"We wanted to talk to you," Heero reminded.

The man nodded, "Heard you the first time, kid. Come on inside."

The interior of the cabin was cool after the warmth of the hot sun. The room seemed dark for a moment before Quatre's eyes adjusted. A faint, smoky aroma lingered in the air, and he found himself relaxing against his will.

The man motioned to a small couch, which appeared to be little more than a thinly cushioned hardwood bench, and they sat down. "Want a drink?" The Demon asked Heero, who nodded. When he turned his strange eyes to Quatre, the blond had to remind himself not to flinch.

"Y-yes. Thank you."

The man made a small noise, something like a snort of reluctant amusement, then turned and left the room.

Quatre turned to stare at the darker man sitting at his side. "Heero?"

"Still afraid of him?" He asked softly.

"N-no, but…"

"But he does seem different," Heero said, completing the blond's sentence for him. "Duo was left on the steps of a church when he was an infant. His eyes immediately frightened the townsfolk; they thought him a child of the fey, a devil faerie. But the priest and his daughter adopted Duo without hesitation. While they were alive and able to protect him, he was treated well enough. But a fierce storm struck one night, and the church was hit by lightning and burned to the ground, taking the priest and his daughter with it. It happened on the thirteenth anniversary of the day Duo had appeared, and so he became the object of ridicule and scorn for the suspicious townsfolk. He finally gave up on them all and came to live here, in the mountains. That must've been thirty, thirty-five years ago…"

"What?" Quatre gasped. "But he looks so young."

Heero's dark blue eyes became troubled; "There is much about Duo that he himself cannot explain. He tries to take it all in stride, but I know he suspects some of the townsfolk's superstitions had a ring of truth to them. His eyes, his face, the spry build of his body… At almost fifty, he could pass for twenty. And it scares him," Heero added, his voice dropping to a low whisper, hinting at his own fear for the man. "If he can look so young now… how will he look at sixty? Eighty? Will he be allowed to age, to grow weak and become grey and wrinkled before he dies? Or will death come upon him unawares, to steal the very breath from his lungs and the life from his eyes… Will death even reach for him? _Will_ he be allowed to die?"

Quatre fisted his hands in his lap and clenched his jaw, but could not halt the tears streaming from his eyes. When Heero looked up and saw this, the darker man looked extremely guilty. He lifted a hand, thumbing the blond's tears away. "I am sorry, gypsy," he murmured. "I did not mean to ramble on like that, nor to upset you."

The blond nodded, biting his lip in an attempt to chase back the rest of his tears. "I-it's all right. I guess it's just… that I can relate. Not with the ageless bit, but… Gypsies aren't always met with open arms…"

Heero smiled sadly, reaching to catch his hand to Quatre's bound hair, letting its cool golden strands spill from his fingers. "I apologize for my part in that, as well," he whispered gently. "When he returns, let me ask the questions, _kawaii_."

Duo came back with a round tray and three frosty glasses of lemonade. He still seemed wary of Quatre, but there was hard-earned trust in those strange eyes for Heero. He sat in a stiff wooden chair across from them. "I take it you told him about me?"

"Yes," Heero said simply. "And briefly about your church."

"It was Father Maxwell's church, not mine," he shrugged. "His family and the Khushrenadas were always friendly with each other, so it seemed only right to hide myself on their mountain."

"Duo," Heero said, setting his glass down and moving to the edge of the uncomfortable couch. "We think Quatre Raberba is the son of Treize and Leia… the little boy who disappeared all those years ago."

"Yeah, I thought that was why you wanted to see me."

"It seems Rasid Darlian took him and kept him. When he died, he mentioned the name Duo, your name, as if you might know something about the mystery that's surrounded Leia's disappearance all these years."

"W-wait a minute," the man stammered, his strange eyes growing wide. "Rasid's dead? When the hell did that happen?"

"Was it you, Duo, who came to Quatre Raberba's room?"

"Well, yeah, but…" He shook his head, seeming to struggle with the present. "Rasid's _dead?_ You gonna explain this to me, or am I…"

Quatre took pity on the man. "He died this past winter, of consumption. It… wasn't easy, or quick. But I believe he fought strongly to the end."

"He would," Duo nodded with a small smirk. "That man never took anything lying down." Sighing heavily, he focused again on the blond. "Yeah, I was in your room. Sorry for scarin' you, but it was the only way I knew to talk to you. Obviously, comin' during the day was out of the question. But when you hollered like that… Guess I forgot how I must look to someone who doesn't know me."

"No," Quatre said, a painful ache tightening around his lungs for all the years this man had suffered rejection. "It wasn't that. It's just that things at the castle have been… well, strained since I came. I guess I was already on edge." He offered a shaky smile, "But last night, yes, you did shock me some. It wasn't your looks; it was what you said. Why did you feel you had to warn me away?"

Duo's brows came together in a frown. "Last night? I wasn't there last night. Hell, after the scare I gave you, I'd never have come back. And I only came that first time because I saw you here at the house and guessed why you'd come."

Heero and Quatre exchanged a glance, puzzled by his denial.

"You saw me here, then, that first time?"

"Yeah. I knew you right away. I'm guessin' you already know how much you look like Leia."

The blond frowned, confused by Duo's denial of being in his room. But if it was not Duo, then someone had gone to a great deal of trouble to look like him.

"What about Rasid, Duo?" Heero asked. "Is there anything you can tell us about Leia? Quatre Raberba says he was never with his mother. Do you know where she could have gone? We'd like to find her, if possible."

"You'd be lookin' forever then, and in vain. Rasid suspected it all along; that's why he took the kid." The man's strange eyes met Quatre's gaze directly. "He was afraid something would happen to you, too. I hate to be the one to tell you this, kid, but I don't believe Leia Khushrenada ever left that castle." He paused, chewing on his lip, but it seemed nothing could prevent his next words.

"I think your mum was murdered, and I think her body's still there, hidden somewhere on the estate."


	25. Chapter Twenty-Five

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

"No," Quatre whispered. The words echoed again and again through his mind, and the room seemed to tilt crazily around him.

"_Kami_," Heero swore softly, reaching for him and pulling him back against the couch.

"I'm sorry," Duo sighed. "I am. But you came here for the truth, and I wouldn't insult your intelligence by lying about somethin' like this."

"Yes," the blond nodded as the room began to right itself again. "Yes, I wanted the truth."

Yet the finality of Duo's words hurt so that he could hardly breathe. The memory of her fragrance came rushing back to him, and for a moment he could almost feel her arms around him, rocking him just as she had when he was a child.

He took a deep, slow breath and sipped the lemonade that Heero held to his lips. The darker man was so close, so warm, that for a moment he strongly wanted to collapse into Heero's arms and completely break down. And he might have done that, if it weren't for the amethyst eyes watching him.

"Please… T-tell me what you mean," Quatre managed.

"I knew your mum," Duo affirmed. "She came to me from time to time, for medicinal herbs and tonics, or even just to talk. She was something else altogether; she rivaled Sister Helen with her goodness and high spirits. Everyone loved her. Treize practically worshipped the ground she walked on." He paused, glancing at Heero. "I'm sorry, kid, but you wanted the truth and it has to be said."

"Go on," he said quietly.

"Things began to change at the castle when Hiromi came. At first, Leia and Hiromi were closer than anything, but after a while people began to talk about Treize and his attention to his wife's maid."

Heero stood then and moved to the window, his back to the room. There was tension in his shoulders, as though he expected at any moment to shatter under the blow of Duo's words.

"You want me to stop, kid?"

"No," he growled. "I've heard it all before."

For a moment, Quatre wanted to stop the man himself, thought even of coming back alone so Heero would not have to be subjected to the story again, one that had likely haunted him since childhood. Before he could speak up, however, Heero turned around, his jaw clenched in attempt to restrain himself. "Go ahead, Duo. I'm no longer a little boy who needs your protection."

Duo's oddly gentle smirk told the blond a great deal about the companionship between the other two. Somehow, they had found each other - an outcast, strange-eyed man and a hurt, misunderstood little boy. Quatre wondered how often Heero had come to this place, how many times Duo had taken him in and listened to his troubles when it probably would have been easier for the ageless man to turn the child away. And Quatre felt an immediate kinship to the Demon, guessing how important Duo had become to Heero over the years.

"All right," Duo sighed. He turned his gaze once again upon Quatre. "Your mum started talkin' about the rumors every time she came over - which was happening more and more. The funny thing was that your dad came a few times himself. I was a sort of messenger between them, they were so proud and stubborn. It was obvious they loved each other, but they were young and unsure. And the rumors wouldn't stop. I can't tell you how often I beat myself up over never bein' able to convince them to just sit down and talk to each other.

"Zechs Merquise visited Rosemont that year. I guess it was unavoidable, the way Leia turned to him for comfort. I told her she was making a mistake, that her attention to him would only make things worse. Obviously she didn't listen. And I was right."

"Was that when Zechs painted her portrait?"

"Yeah… mistake after mistake in that place, I swear. The man was obsessed with your mum; he begged her to leave Treize and go back to France with him. You must've gotten to know Treize well enough again by now to know that he would never have believed his best friend had tried to betray him. But that's what happened."

"What about Rasid?" Quatre wondered. "They say he and my mother-"

"Lies," Duo dismissed. "There's not a doubt in my mind he loved her, but the man was too loyal to Treize Khushrenada to do anything about it. If I hadn't believed that, I never would've helped him."

"You…?" He blinked, realizing. "You're the one who wrote to him, who was always sending money. Did you help him find work for the caravan in Sanc?"

"Yeah, I did." Duo turned to Heero, "Sorry for never tellin' you, kid, but Rasid made me swear… said no one could know, that it'd put the little boy in danger."

Heero nodded solemnly, his mouth held tightly in a straight line.

"The last time your mum was here," he said, returning his attention to Quatre, "I could tell something was wrong. I dunno what it was; I doubt even she knew. But she was scared, that much I could see. She talked a lot about death, and was torturing herself over what would become of her kid if something happened to her."

"B-but perhaps that's why she ran away…"

"She didn't run, kid. Someone killed her. I know it, and so did Rasid. Leia loved Treize Khushrenada, and she loved you. She wasn't a quitter - she would've stayed and fought, before ever givin' up on your dad and the life she wanted with him."

"Then who do you think could've murdered her?" Heero asked, coming back to the couch and sitting beside Quatre. "And why?"

"You won't like it."

"Tell us."

"Please," Quatre said softly. "The truth."

Throwing his head back with a loud sigh, Duo swore viciously up at the ceiling. "It wasn't me in your room last night," he said suddenly. "You ever think about that? And if it wasn't me, then who was it? What'd they want? Were they just tryin' to scare you, or did they really mean to hurt you?"

Quatre felt a chill crawl up his spine, but no matter how he tried he would never have expected to hear what Duo said next:

"Your dad drank himself to oblivion, didn't he. My opinion, he's tryin' to forget. He can't have meant to do it - but maybe the jealousy was too much, and he snapped. Hate to say it, kid, but I've always thought Treize was the one to kill your mum."


	26. Chapter Twenty-Six

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Six**

Once they were away from the cabin and in the shelter of the trees, Quatre turned to Heero. He was trying so hard not to cry, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He was welcomed into the darker man's arms, and Heero held the blond tight against his chest. "It's all right, _warabe_," he murmured. "I'm here. I won't leave you."

"I should never have come here," Quatre whimpered. "I can't listen to any more about my mother… can't stand to hear she might've been murdered…"

"Shh," he whispered. "We'll find out; we'll do it together."

The blond lifted his head, staring. "You'd do this for me?"

Heero smiled gently and cupped his jaw. His lips brushed lightly, lingeringly, against Quatre's. "Don't you know by now, _kawaii_? At this point I'm afraid I would do anything you asked of me."

His kiss was sweet torture, different from any other time Heero had kissed him. Quatre could feel the hunger in the darker man, Heero's need of him in every demanding touch of his hands. When at last he pulled away, they were both shaking, their gasping breaths mingling.

Quatre looked toward the house, wondering if Duo could see them from there. "W-we should go…"

Heero kissed him again, softly this time, as though he could not bear to let the blond go. Drawing away again, he closed his eyes, seeming to struggle to compose himself. Then, with a deep sigh, he turned and brought Sandi to her rider.

They rode in silence back down the mountain and through the vineyard. Neither made an effort at conversation. Quatre's mind was filled with Duo's words, and he sensed Heero was thinking about it, too… perhaps even wondering how they could determine whether Leia Khushrenada was dead or alive.

Dinner that night with the family was barely tolerable. Each face Quatre looked into around the large table seemed different, now that he had heard the story about his mother. Which one of them hated her enough to want her dead? It was hard for him to confess, even to himself, that he began that night to have doubts about his own father. Could Duo be right? Was Treize's drunkenness caused by guilt? Had he killed the woman he loved?

Several times during dinner Quatre saw Treize watching him. The older man seemed to sense the turmoil that stirred within him, and Quatre thought he saw a sadness in his father's eyes.

The blond also began to see Zechs Merquise in a different light. His touch no longer seemed meaningless to Quatre, and Zechs' poised half-smirk made him uncomfortable. Each time he moved near Quatre wanted to turn away. The younger blond had to force himself to behave normally, as if nothing had changed. For he knew that if he really wanted to find out what had happened all those years ago, he would have to pretend… and it was one of the hardest things he'd ever had to do.

As soon as the meal was finished, Quatre excused himself and went to his room. He wanted to be alone to think about what Duo had said.

It must have been nearly midnight and still he paced the floor restlessly, unable to rid himself of his troubled thoughts. Finally pulling his hair free of its gypsy's tail, he glanced out the window. His eyes fell upon the tower. Suddenly he was filled with an undeniable urge to go there, perhaps to feel the presence of his mother as he had before.

It wasn't until he entered the library that he began to feel uneasy and to doubt his decision to go there in the middle of the night. He had brought a lamp with him from his room, and he used it to light another in the library.

But even the light did not offer comfort to him that night. He hesitated a moment, thinking he heard a noise outside in the hallway. He held his breath and cupped his hand lightly around the lamp's chimney to shield its light. After a few seconds of complete silence, the blond decided he had only imagined the sound and turned to go up the winding stairway to the tower.

He stopped again on the second level, certain he had heard the slamming of a door somewhere in the castle below. Shaking his head at his own ridiculousness, hearing no other noises below, he continued on to the tower room.

Nothing had changed. The jewelry still glittered upon the table, surrounding the perfume bottle he had found before. Quatre moved in front of the portrait, letting his eyes take in every detail of the work that he knew now to belong to Zechs Merquise. There was no denying the man was an exceptionally talented artist.

Quatre wondered what his father thought when Treize looked at this painting. Surely he could see the passion in her eyes, the look of flirtatious mischief. But had that look been real, or was it simply the impassioned view of the artist?

"Mother," Quatre whispered. "I-I wish you could tell me what to do. What happened, all those years ago?"

Suddenly the scent of orange blossoms seemed to surround him. He glanced quickly at the perfume bottle, but found it still stoppered with its glass cork. He turned around, eyes searching the small, curving room. For as much as he longed for her presence and her guidance, he was nervous. This was too bizarre. Was he going mad, or was someone playing tricks on him?

"M-mother…?"

He heard a scraping noise outside the door. Quatre quickly blew out the lamp; he could think of nothing more unpleasant than having to face his father here in this room in the middle of the night.

He wondered at the loud _whoosh_ he heard outside the door. Then, in an instant, the darkness turned to bright orange and yellow.

_Fire!_

Quatre ran to the door; it would not budge. He grabbed the doorknob and rattled the door on its hinges. A numbing sense of alarm ran through him then, for he knew he was trapped… and he knew someone had intended this to happen to him.

He ran to the windows; they all had been sealed shut. He picked up a chair and hurled it at the thick glass panes. Several of them broke, leaving jagged shards of glass hanging upon the wooden frames. But the fresh air from the broken window only formed a draft, pulling the thick black smoke into the room and hurling it out the window and over the rooftops.

"Help!" The blond shouted, choking and coughing as the smoke burned his lungs and throat.

He could not see down into the other level of the tower. But there was absolute silence around him, and he knew no one had heard him.

Flames lapped now beneath the door and he could hear the roar of the fire. Soon it would burst through the wooden door and into the small room. Everything inside would be incinerated within minutes. Quatre had to get out, even if it meant dropping to the rooftops two stories below.

He turned to looked at the portrait, searching it almost as if it held the answer to his escape. Leia Khushrenada's eyes looked back at him, and he could swear in that moment they were troubled, even tear-filled. She was there with him; he could not doubt it any longer.

Quatre grabbed the portrait and used the edge of it to break the rest of the glass and splinters of wood from the window. Then he dropped the portrait to the rooftops below, praying it would not be ruined in the process.

From somewhere below him he heard a scream; loud at first, then it was gone. Someone was there. Quatre shouted for help again, just as the fire seared a path through the doorway and boiled like an inferno into the room.

He no longer had a choice; he had to climb out the window, perhaps even jump to certain injury or death below. Quatre saw that there was a row of decorative bricks built into the wall below the windows. They were set out from the rest of the wall, to match the crenellated row at the top of the tower. The heat from the flames behind him was terrible. The fire roared, consuming everything in the room and coming nearer and nearer to him.

He heaved himself to his knees upon the windowsill, then carefully pushed to his feet. The bricks held, and he managed to inch his way around the wall and away from the heat at the window. He dared not look down, and he dared not think that at any moment the bricks might crumble away and drop him to his death.

"Quatre!" Someone called from below. "Are you up there?" The voice was masculine, but he could not tell whether it was Heero or his father.

"Help!" He shouted in answer, looking down toward the open level of the tower. He could see the shadows of people moving there and hear the sound of excited voices.

Then he saw Heero, saw his dark hair as Heero looked out the window and up toward where Quatre clung to the bricks. The blond heard his startled murmur, saw the alarm flash in his eyes.

"Quatre…"

Flames began to shoot from the broken windows of the tower only a few feet from the blond. He could feel the heat against his skin, even through his clothes. Heero saw them, too, and it seemed to throw him into action. "Move closer… this way," he shouted. "Can you do that, _kawaii_?"

Quatre nodded, even though his entire body was frozen in terror. The bricks scraped against him, burning the palms of his hands, but he managed to move until he was standing directly above the window where Heero was.

"Listen to me carefully now, Quatre," the darker man said, his voice steady and calming. "I'm going to climb up onto the windowsill here and reach as far up as I can, but what you have to do is much harder. When I tell you, you must lean down and hold onto the bricks with your hands and let your body down toward me. Do you think you can do that?"

"Yes."

"You're going to have to trust me… please, _kawaii_, do not doubt me."

"I'm ready," Quatre shouted down to him.

He heard Heero moving below; there were other voices now, murmuring in concern for Heero's safety as well as the blond's. Suddenly an explosion shook the tower as the fire burst through the other windows, throwing pieces of glass and debris out into the night air. The glass struck Quatre, and he heard Heero's soft oath, layering a grunt of pain.

"Heero? Heero!"

"It's all right." The darker man grunted, sending a rush of relief through the whole of Quatre's being. "I'm still here. We have to hurry now. Ready?"

"Yes."

"Now."

Quatre swung his body downward, hands holding tightly to the bricks even as they cut and dug into his fingers. Then he felt Heero's arms reaching around him, grabbing him firmly about the hips and swinging him with one quick movement onto the window ledge with him.

For a second Heero leaned back against the bricked archway of the window, pulling Quatre against him and holding him fiercely, as though he'd never let go. Quatre felt the other's hands on his face, on his shoulders and neck, as if Heero wanted to make sure he was all right.

The blond sucked in a quiet breath as he saw the blood on Heero's face. "You're hurt."

"It's nothing, _kawaii_. I'll be fine."

Then other hands were reaching for them, helping them down to the safety of the floor. But Quatre was unaware of anyone else, could only hold on to Heero. He was still shaken by what had happened, didn't believe himself safe outside of Heero's presence.

The floor of the tower was wet, and he saw now that servants ran back and forth up the stairs, throwing buckets of water into the tower room. The stench of smoke and burned wood filled the air as tiny pieces of ash drifted down upon them like sullied snowflakes.

"Son, what on earth were you doing up there at this time of night?" It was Treize who asked the question. His face was filled with worry, and he reached his arm out as though to touch his hand to Quatre's shoulder.

But Duo's warning still rang in Quatre's ears, and the blond flinched away, pulling himself tighter within the circle of Heero's arms. He saw the hurt surprise on Treize's face, but he didn't care. At that moment he was confused enough to believe he couldn't trust anyone but Heero.

"S-someone tried to kill me," he stammered.

Zechs was there, as well as Hiromi and Dorothy. He stared at each of them, expecting someone to disagree with him, even hoping that they would. But he could see by their looks that they knew it was true.

"I'm afraid he's right," his father said, the hurt from his rejection still evident in Treize's eyes. "The door had been jammed from outside with a board, and the smell of kerosene was strong when we arrived."

It was then that Wufei came into the circle of people. His obsidian eyes were bright with alarm. It was not Treize he came to, but Heero. "Mister Yuy," he gasped, and for the first time his voice sounded unsteady. "Come quick… down below. He… he must have jumped from the tower…"

"Who?" Heero asked, his voice filled with authority.

Wufei seemed unable to say any more, sprinting to the window at the front of the tower and pointing down toward the lawn.

Everyone moved to look where he pointed. There were gasps and muttered oaths as they all saw the figure lying on the ground. Cinnamon hair lay spread about his head, and his body lay twisted within his tattered black clothes.

Beside him sat the wolf he called Shinigami. It lifted its great head toward the sky as its plaintive howl filled the air and drifted up toward the tower windows.

Heero's choked voice was a mere whisper beside Quatre.

"_Duo._"


	27. Chapter Twenty-Seven

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

There was shock on the faces of those in the tower as they looked silently at one another. Heero turned around and ran toward the door. "Stay here," he called to all of them.

"No," Quatre argued, racing to catch up to him. "I'm coming with you."

The darker man looked at him quickly but said nothing as Quatre followed him down the stairs, into the library, and through the castle.

The great wolf saw them coming. It came to its feet, and Quatre could see the bristle of hair along its neck and shoulders as it watched them approach. A low growl rumbled from its throat, and its teeth glittered in the dim moonlight.

"Stay, Shinigami," Heero commanded.

Still the wolf continued to growl. This time it seemed it was not leaving its master for anyone, not even Heero.

Quatre's heart leapt as he saw Duo's arm move toward the wolf. As his fingers clutched at Shinigami's thick fur, it slowly sank to the ground beside Duo, still watching them warily.

"He's alive," the blond breathed.

The both began to run, unmindful of the animal or what it might do. But even though it still eyed them suspiciously, it made no effort to hurt them.

They knelt, one on each side of Duo. His face was bloody, and his strange amethyst eyes narrowed as though to focus through his pain to find Heero. "I-I was wrong," he croaked, his weakened voice gurgling past the blood in his throat. "I was so wrong…"

"Heero," Quatre pleaded under his breath. "Can we help him?"

The darker man's eyes met his, blue orbs blazing with unspeakable heartache, and Quatre's own heart plummeted toward his stomach. And the blond realized what Heero had already known - the Demon was dying.

"Saw you… saw you go up there," Duo gasped; he looked as if he would have arched his back in pain, if it wasn't already broken. "Followed you… t-tried to stop it…"

"I believe you," Quatre whispered.

"H-Heero… Shinigami…"

"Who was it, Duo?" He asked, his voice husky with emotion. "Who did this to you?"

The Demon's eyes grew cloudy and dim. His hand lifted from the wolf's back and he pointed toward something behind them. Quatre turned and looked over his shoulder, finding that everyone had come from the castle and stood in a semicircle on the lawn behind them. Returning his attention to Duo, the blond saw the fury in those strange eyes. Duo's murderer was there; Quatre knew it, and so did Heero.

Then Duo's hand fell to his side, and the Demon did not draw another breath. Heero choked back a short cry, finally breaking down and collapsing over the broken tangle of his friend's body.

Oddly, it was Dorothy who came forward first - everyone else seemed too stunned to move or to speak. She bent to Heero and put her hand on his shoulder. "Come along now, Heero," she murmured. "Let some of the servants take him and bury him."

The darker man's head came up, and Quatre saw the tears in his eyes. "He was a Catholic. He will have a proper funeral." Heero's voice was soft, but angry; frustration clipped his words. "Do you think I would have him buried in the middle of the night, like some animal?"

"Now, dear…"

"Leave it alone, Dorothy. This is something I will take care of on my own, with no interference from anyone." His face and his voice reflected the deep grief he felt.

The man who lay dead upon the ground was more than a friend to Heero. Quatre knew that, but he doubted the rest of them could understand it. Besides, they thought Duo was the one who'd tried to kill him tonight. All of them, except one.

The blond turned to them then, scanning their faces as they looked on in silence. Everyone was there. Sally, her cook's helpers, Wufei, even Cathy and her stableboy Trowa. The family stood at the front of the gathering. Hiromi clung to Treize's arm as though without his support she might fall to the ground. She seemed frightened, and very vulnerable. Zechs Merquise seemed to have eyes only for Quatre, looking as though the man wanted to help him, to take him away and protect him.

Quatre sighed in frustration. There was nothing on any of their faces to tell him who the murderer was. Which of them wanted him dead? And why? Duo had managed to tell them he had been wrong, but wrong about what? About Treize having killed Leia? Or about Leia actually being dead? Now Quatre would never know unless he could find out on his own.

Someone brought a blanket to Heero, and he covered Duo's body carefully and tenderly. It plucked at Quatre's heartstrings to see him that way. The blond had thought from the beginning that Heero Yuy was a strong, invincible man. And yet this new side of him did not make Quatre think less of the darker man's masculinity.

Heero stood, hollering instructions to some of the servants about Duo's body. Then he turned to Quatre and took his hand. The others had begun to drift back to the castle, but he pulled the blond close and whispered into Quatre's ear; "Say nothing about what he told us."

Quatre drew back to stare at him. "Y-you mean…"

"I mean, let them continue thinking it was Duo who locked you in the tower room and started the fire."

"All right."

"Wufei," he called toward the group of people, before lowering his voice to speak again to Quatre: "In the meantime, I'm going to have Wufei take you straight to your room and stay with you. As soon as I've finished here, I'll come to you."

The blond nodded as Wufei came forward.

"I want you to take Quatre Raberba to his room," Heero requested, with just a hint of authority behind his voice. "Lock the door; let no one in but me. Understand?"

Wufei suddenly looked more like a soldier at attention than a manservant, his obsidian eyes bright and alert. "Yes sir," he clipped with a quick nod.

Heero turned to Quatre, and the blond felt the warmth of the other's palm curling around the side of his neck as it swept up toward his jaw. "Are you really all right? In all the confusion, I hardly had time to ask."

Quatre gave a shaky smile, wishing for the darker man's sake that he could be stronger than he was, strong enough for the both of them. "Yes," he replied. "I'm fine." He reached up and touched Heero's face, near the nasty cut on his forehead. "Have the doctor look at this."

"I will. Don't worry about me, _warabe_."

As Wufei took him back toward the castle, Quatre saw several people waiting in the open doorway just off the loggia. Treize and Hiromi were there, as well as Zechs. But Dorothy, true to form, was showing little concern. She had gone back to her room.

After much assurance to them that he was all right, the blond allowed Wufei to take him up to his room. Quatre was tired; he wanted nothing more than a warm bath and a change of clothes. When Cathy knocked at the door a few moments later, however, probably anticipating Quatre's needs, Wufei would not allow her through. Heero had told him no one, and that meant Cathy, too.

Quatre went to the door and looked over Wufei's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Cathy. And I know it's late, but could you come back later?"

She smiled very sweetly. "It's near time for the cooks to start breakfast. So I'll be up and waiting when you're ready. You're… you're not hurt anywhere, are you? Shall I bring some ointment back when I come?"

"That might be a good idea."

The blond smiled at the haughty look she threw at Wufei as she left.

By the time Heero arrived, Quatre was almost asleep in the chair beside his bed. He wasn't even aware Wufei had been sent away until the darker man came to stand beside him. Quatre looked up and saw him there, watching him.

"I'm sorry to wake you."

"No, it's fine. I wanted to wait up for you."

Heero sat on the side of the bed, grabbing the arms of Quatre's chair and pulling it closer. "I don't think I'd ever known fear like when I saw you clinging to that wall tonight…"

Quatre's eyes stung wetly at the other's words. Moving to the edge of his chair, their knees touching together, he lifted a hand to brush his fingers against Heero's forehead, his eyes looking worriedly at the small bandage there.

"I'm fine," Heero said with a smile. He held his arms out in invitation.

As though a spring had been released deep inside him, Quatre leapt forward and caught himself in Heero's embrace. He was perhaps a little too enthusiastic, for the darker man fell back upon the mattress with a low chuckle, taking Quatre down with him so that the blond lay atop him.

Heero's hands gently ran along Quatre's back and arms, before tunneling his fingers into the blond's hair. "Quatre," he whispered. "My spell-weaving gypsy. I was afraid I had lost you."

"Never," Quatre hissed. "I love you, Heero - I would never leave you."

Heero laughed, a quiet sound of joy and triumph. Then he kissed the blond, his warm lips urgent and demanding as he crushed Quatre against him. "Do you, _kawaii_? Do you really?"

The blond answered him with a kiss of his own and felt Heero's moan of delight against his mouth. The darker man's hands caressed him slowly, expertly, and Quatre felt like laughing aloud. Heero had come to discuss his safety, and yet he found that he was anything but safe with Heero Yuy. The man was intensely dangerous.

Heero pushed up and rolled them over, pushing Quatre down onto the bed now; his mouth kissed and nibbled along the blond's jaw before catching his teeth to Quatre's earlobe. His body shifted hotly against Quatre's, sending burning tingles beneath the blond's very skin, and Heero whispered his name over and over. Quatre clung tightly to him, arching up into the body above him.

Suddenly there was a knock at the door, and he heard Cathy's voice on the other side. "Mister Quatre… it's me, Cathy. Are you ready for your bath yet?"

Heero pulled away and threw a wry, exasperated glare toward the door. He took a deep breath and held it before moving from the bed. Raking the fingers of one hand through his dark hair, he looked back at Quatre with amusement. "Well? Should I tell her you're ready for your bath?"

"No," the blond shook his head. "Tell her to go away."

He laughed, leaning over Quatre and skimming his teeth along the other's jaw once more. "Just the answer I was hoping for."

"Mister Quatre?" Cathy insisted. "You awake?"

"Give me a minute," he said, lightly shoving Heero back and getting to his feet.

Heero pulled him once again into his arms. "I intended to come up here and talk tonight… about what happened and what we were to do about it. I suppose you know your kisses made me forget everything I meant to say."

"_My_ kisses?"

He laughed. "Have your bath, _kawaii_. Let Cathy take care of you; you deserve it. I could use some cleaning up myself. Then I'll come back, and we'll have breakfast together. How does that sound?"

"You have to ask?" Quatre demanded, moving to kiss him once more.

Minutes later, when Heero opened the door, the blond saw Cathy's instant reaction to the darker man's presence. A knowing little grin slid across her face as she watched Heero walk into the hallway.

"I'll be back," Heero promised softly.

She turned back to Quatre with a twist of her lips. "So, that's the way it is, eh?" Giggling, she came into the room and readied his bath water. "This will no doubt be the talk of the town."

"You just keep it to yourself," Quatre warned with a quiet chuckle. He could not resist her teasing, for he saw the happy acceptance behind it.

"Why, of course," she said brightly.

Then Cathy became a little mother hen, ordering him to sit in a chair so that she could brush out his hair. For a small while the blond had forgotten the horrible events of the night. But now they all came rushing back as she raked tiny pieces of glass from his hair (how had he not felt that?) and muttered about how close he had come to death.

"Your hair is a proper mess," Cathy cried. She looked at him with anxious eyes; "I'm going to have to cut a great deal of it away."

"Don't worry about it, Cathy. I think it's time I left my gypsy past behind me, anyway."

By the time she had cut the singed part of his hair and he'd had a bath, Quatre felt exhausted. The sun was brightening the large oak trees around the castle as he dressed quickly in blue trousers and a green satiny dress shirt.

He looked at his reflection in the mirror. It had been necessary to cut his hair; it had been damaged almost beyond repair. But now he hardly recognized himself. His hair now was so short it hugged his head in wild, golden disarray. He was startled to discover he looked even more like his mother than before.

Cathy grinned when Heero came back. Dark blue eyes met aquamarine, and the world crumbled away around them. Neither even noticed when Cathy excused herself.

Quatre's life had changed so drastically. He had hoped to find a family, and happiness, at Rosemont Castle. But now, after the fire and all the things he'd learned from Duo, he had no idea what turn his life would take next.

He only knew how he had come to feel about Heero Yuy, that he felt safe with Heero… He was willing to put his life and his future into the other man's hands.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Eight

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Quatre went into Heero's arms as easily and naturally as if he'd always done it. All the disagreements and the suspicions between them seemed to dissolve and disappear forever.

After a long kiss, Heero pulled away slightly, then rested his forehead against Quatre's. He was breathing heavily, and he made a groaning sound of amusement. "If we don't stop this, we're never going to finish that conversation."

"I don't care," the blond said, hands fisting the sides of Heero's shirt at his waist and pulling him closer.

The darker man laughed and brushed the knuckles of his fingers along the side of Quatre's face. Smiling softly, he threaded his fingers through the other's shortened tawny strands. "I like your hair this way…"

They sat together on the bed, Heero taking Quatre's hand in his own and gripping it firmly. "It seems there are some few in town who still remember Duo fondly. They requested that he be buried in the cemetery there."

"Do you think Duo would have wanted that?"

"Honestly?" Heero said quietly, "No. I think he would prefer to lie under the ashes of the church that had been his first home, where died the only family he knew. But I could think of no kind way to refuse, and they were his friends. So I agreed."

Quatre nodded, silently. He could see the burning heartache in the other's eyes, the pain Heero strived so hard to hide. This man had found and lost the truest of companions; such a tragedy would have left a scar on his heart which might never fully heal.

"I believe he really did come here to try and protect you, and that he saw whoever started the fire. That person killed him."

"I believe that, too."

Heero's mouth tugged in a small smile; he seemed relieved at Quatre's trust in Duo, and in him. "From now on, I don't want you out of my sight. Whoever set that fire is still here, and he wants to get rid of you."

"But, why?"

"I don't know," he confessed, looking down at their clasped hands.

"But you're worried about…"

"Of course I'm worried." His eyes lifted sharply up; "I don't know what I'd do if anything happened to you, if tonight you had…"

"I'm all right," Quatre softly reminded. Squeezing the hand gripping his, he murmured, "Feel that? I'm not going anywhere."

Heero lurched forward, his kiss searing and tasting of desperation. "I'll hold you to that," he growled.

"Heero," the blond reluctantly wondered as they pulled away. "Are you afraid what Duo said is right… that it might be Treize?"

There was a frown between his brows as the darker man shook his head, sighing. "He has been acting strangely since you came. He seems so remote at times, as if he doesn't know what he's saying or where he is."

"But couldn't that be the result of all the years of drinking?"

"Maybe. But who else could have done such a thing? It would have to be someone not in his right mind, and I can't…"

Quatre said his next words carefully, for he did not want to upset the man further. "What about Dorothy? She hates me, Heero; she is always straight to the point on that. She doesn't want me here, she accused me of wanting to drive away your mother…"

"I've thought of that. But you said the shadow that came to your room last time could never have belonged to a woman."

"The voice I heard was just a whisper. It could've been anyone."

"I can't believe it would be Treize."

"Or Dorothy?"

He smiled; "Or Dorothy. I know it's hard to believe, but she was always very loving to me as a child, even now." He made a low sound in his throat, frustrated. "But I know you're right. It _could_ be anyone."

He released Quatre's hand, bringing both of his up to cradle the blond's jaw. "That's why I want to know where you are every minute of the day until we can solve this thing. In the meantime, we'll let everyone think Duo did it. Perhaps the real murderer will let his guard down."

~o~

The next few days were difficult for all of them. There was a disquiet and a sadness through the entire household. Most of the servants were certain that Duo, the Demon, had died by his own hand after trying to kill Quatre. They believed he was insane and had always resented the Khushrenada family their fame and good fortune. There was even talk now that he might have been responsible for Leia's disappearance.

The wolf, Shinigami, crept about the castle every day, and sometimes Quatre could hear its lonely howls through the night. But the blond was no longer afraid of the big animal; he felt only sorry for it, knowing how much it grieved for its master.

Those few days he felt that Heero and himself were the only ones who knew the man behind the Demon myth. They and Zechs were the only ones who attended his funeral. And Quatre suspected Zechs was there, not for Duo, but for him.

The older blond had become almost as protective of Quatre as was Heero. Since that night, every time he turned around Zechs was there, watching him with a strange look of possessiveness in his silvery eyes. He knew _Monsieur_ Merquise must have loved Leia very much, but he did not want that love transferred to him.

In the cemetery, Quatre stood close to Heero's side as the priest read the ancient words of mourning. Heero's hand gripped the blond's with tight tension. His mouth was set in a grim line, his dark eyes looking downward, as though he could not bear to face the bright sunlight.

From around his neck, Duo's golden crucifix gleamed against his dark shirt.**(4)**

As they drove back to the castle that day, the black wolf came from the woods. Heero whistled to it and spoke softly as the animal trotted beside the carriage. Soon Shinigami fell into a slow jog behind them, following them up the long driveway and right to the carriage house. When Heero stepped down and patted the wolf's massive head, Quatre could see the love in those clear black eyes. And he knew that Shinigami had found another master.

Gradually things returned to normal at the castle. The tension eased, and everyone turned to the events of summer and to the tending of the vineyard. But although he told no one, Quatre still felt an underlying current of something… amiss. Sometimes it woke him in the middle of the night.

Outwardly, everyone seemed happy. Even Treize was making a remarkable recovery, and this time he had not strayed from his resolve to stop drinking. He had gained healthy muscle, and he no longer had that blank, faraway look in his eyes. He and Hiromi had begun to lead a normal life. Treize seemed to be learning just how much he needed her, perhaps even loved her. Quatre knew that pleased Heero, and it pleased him as well.

As life returned to normal, Hiromi began to speak of a summer cotillion. Quatre sensed it was the first of its kind there in many years. Knowing how much it meant to her, he agreed to help, even though he felt he would still be awkward and out of place at such a formal event. But it would be an opportunity to put the tragedy behind them and to visit with their neighbors. It had been some time since Quatre had seen Relena and her mother.

They'd often had Mariemeia out on Saturdays, and now he began to think the little girl might enjoy the cotillion, might even like to spend the night at the castle. She had developed an immediate friendship with Cathy, and spent as much time with Cathy and Trowa as she did with Quatre.

The portrait of his mother had been recovered from the rooftop where Quatre had thrown it the night of the fire. It had apparently landed flat and, except for a few scratches, was in its original condition. The finding of it had prompted many comments; everyone had forgotten about it. But, mindful of Hiromi's feelings, Quatre asked that it be hung in his room.

The portrait also seemed to awaken more old memories in Zechs. He decided he wanted to take up the brush again, to paint another portrait in time for the cotillion. And he requested Quatre as its subject. It would be a kind of unveiling ceremony, the older blond said. Although Quatre felt uneasy about spending so much time in his company and did not want to encourage him, everyone else seemed to think it was a great idea. So he agreed.

~o~

The castle had come alive the week before the cotillion. Every piece of furniture, every elegantly curved chandelier, was cleaned and polished. The oak paneling was rubbed to a gleaming patina, leaving the scent of lemon was throughout the castle. Finally the floors of the ballroom were scrubbed and buffed until they glistened; no one would be allowed in the room until the night of the event.

Quatre spent almost every afternoon with Zechs, who insisted on doing his painting outside. The older blond said the light was better there, and he liked the dappled play of sunlight through the tall canopy of leaves. He would allow no one to come into the isolated part of the courtyard where they were, and he guarded his painting fervently.

Heero always accompanied Quatre to the courtyard and came back for him; Wufei waited in the shadows in between, on orders to respond immediately if Quatre called for him. Zechs would often shake his head at Heero's fierce protectiveness, even seem insulted at times that Heero could not trust an old friend. When Quatre tried to reassure the older blond, Zechs would simply look at him with that same slow half-smirk and return to his painting.

Few days before the cotillion, Cathy knocked at Quatre's door. Her pretty eyes were nervous as she asked to speak with him. But when he let her in the room, she paced the floor, wringing her hands.

Quatre, sitting in a chair, chuckled lightly at her nervousness. "Just tell me, Cathy. Is it about the wedding?"

"Well, sort of. It's just… I know how much little Mariemeia means to you. And now you and Mister Heero are getting serious…"

"Are we?" The blond asked, arching a pale eyebrow teasingly.

She dropped her hands, looking at him with a wry smile of her own. "What I'm trying to ask is, would you mind if Trowa and I adopted Mariemeia? We love her so much, and the poor girl needs a good home. But if you and the young master had plans…"

"Oh," he said, his humor at her discomfort fleeing the moment he understood her. "Cathy… I love Mariemeia, too. She'll always be my Beautiful. But… I can't think of any two people who'd make better parents for her than you and Trowa."

"You mean you don't mind?"

"Of course I don't mind. Does she know yet?"

"No, we're going to tell her tomorrow." For a moment Cathy's face became serious, her eyes troubled. "She's become used to being here, and you've been so generous with her. I hope she won't be disappointed with what Trowa and I have to offer."

Quatre's smile made a swift return at that. "I'm sure she won't feel that way at all."

~o~

Finally the evening of the cotillion arrived, and suddenly the castle was thrown into a buzz of activity. Servants hurried along the halls, bringing bath water and taking clothes to be pressed at the last moment.

Quatre had dressed in a fine three-piece suit. His shirt and pants were white, his vest a pale grey; his white jacket was trimmed with subtly gleaming silver threads. His sleeves were cuffed with the silver links Relena had sent with her brother's grey suit that long-ago day. The wild curls of his tawny hair he had wetted with sea-salt scented cologne and combed back from his face.

He was searching through an old leather pouch, which contained the few possessions Rasid had passed along to him. There was one thing he absolutely knew had never belonged to the gypsy that had raised him. Quatre had learned that the Darlian crest was a white stag, rearing on its hinds legs as though in the midst of defending itself. The silver signet ring he spilled now from the pouch of leather bore a rose in full bloom.

Rosemont Castle. A rose signet.

Quatre slipped the ring onto the first finger of his right hand, just as Heero knocked at his door to bring him downstairs.

4) I pictured this in my mind so clearly. It made me cry. Could someone please draw it for me?


	29. Chapter Twenty-Nine

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

When Quatre opened the door, Heero was standing in the hallway, leaning with one elbow propped against the wall. But then he dropped his arm and straightened, his dark blue eyes raking hungrily over the blond. "Gypsy," he said huskily, "I don't think I'll be calling you _warabe_ any longer."

"Good," Quatre replied, eyes narrowing in a mock frown. "I never liked the sound of that one. Wufei finally told me what it meant, by the way. You still think me a child?"

"No," he whispered. "I most certainly do not."

Then, careful of Quatre's fine new suit, Heero pulled the blond against him until their bodies lined snugly together. He skimmed his mouth along Quatre's jaw before gently pulling at the blond's earlobe with his teeth. "I'm not sure I want to take you downstairs," he growled.

"Why?"

"I don't want to share you with anyone else tonight." He pulled one last time at Quatre's earlobe before kissing his mouth again. Then he let go of the blond and drew away, laughing softly. "We'd better go down to the ballroom, before I do something we'd both regret."

"I'd never regret anything with you," Quatre swore.

"Don't tempt me any more than you already do," Heero said with another chuckle. He took Quatre's hand in his own, threading their fingers together, and that was how they stayed as the two walked down together.

"Well, you two are the happiest-looking couple I've seen tonight," Hiromi smiled as they entered the ballroom. "And I've seen quite a few."

She was beautiful in a gown of beige lace and pale pink taffeta; it displayed her olive skin to perfection. She looked young and carefree, and when Treize stepped to her side, the happiness on Hiromi's face was reflected on his as well.

But suddenly Treize stepped toward Quatre. There was a look of alarm in his eyes as he stared down at the blond's right hand. "That ring… where did you get it?"

For a moment, Quatre fisted his hand protectively around it, but then lifted his hand so that his father could see it more clearly. "Rasid gave it to me before he died."

Treize threw his head back with a sudden laugh. Stepping forward, he gripped Quatre by the shoulders and then pulled him in for a tight embrace. "Quatre Raberba," he said triumphantly when he pulled away. "My own Quatre Raberba."

When he turned to Hiromi and Heero to find them staring, he chuckled again. "But don't you see?" He took Quatre's hand, brandishing the ring at them; "This proves it. He really is Quatre Raberba." Turning again to the blond, he said, "Come, let's sit down. I'll explain everything."

They all moved to the edge of the floor where several chairs had been placed in an alcove created by large potted palms. Heero stood behind Quatre's chair, his hand protectively on the blond's shoulder as Treize began to explain himself. The older man was practically breathless with excitement:

"That ring, son, was forged especially for you. I had always planned on giving it to you once you had grown into manhood. It was part of a set, actually; I'd also had a matching talisman created for your mother. Two roses, you see? It was a significant symbol for Leia and myself, for that was how I'd proposed to her. The son of Rosemont Estate, on his knee and offering two long-stemmed red roses to the most beautiful woman in the county. Your ring vanished when the two of you did."

His look was so tender, so sincere, that Quatre forgot all the doubts he'd had about his father. Biting at his lip, the blond asked, "What happened to the talisman?"

"Your mother wore it every day. In fact," he said, with a sad little look toward Hiromi, "she was wearing it the day she left Rosemont."

Hiromi watched her husband, and Quatre realized at that moment the kind of wonderful and gracious person she truly was. She was feeling every emotion Treize was, and she looked at him with pride, recognizing how romantic he'd been to give such a sentimental gift to Quatre and his mother.

Heero's hand was firm upon Quatre's shoulder, warm and reassuring. "But Treize, I thought you believed all along that he was Quatre Raberba."

"I wanted to believe it, just as you said. But even though he looks like Leia, I did have my doubts, though they were few. I decided he _could_ be my son. I was willing to accept he might not be who he claimed." He smiled at Heero, "And thank you for letting me believe that, even after you knew your investigation was fruitless."

Heero shook his head with amusement, his blue eyes gleaming as he glanced down at Quatre.

"I'm so happy for you," Hiromi whispered.

"Well," Treize said, slapping his hands upon his knees. "What a splendid way to start the evening! I'm so excited, I think I'll make an announcement."

They all smiled indulgently at him as he went to the small bandstand. His step was light and jaunty, and he looked the picture of health. The music stopped, and the dancers turned to see what was happening.

Treize held up his arms to the crowd of people. He smiled as he gestured for Quatre to come forward. "Friends and neighbors, this evening is a very special one for all of us here at Rosemont Castle. But it is doubly special for me because of the young man standing beside me. Some of you have already met him. But for those of you who haven't, as his proud father, I'd like to introduce you to my son, Quatre Raberba Khushrenada."

They were murmurs of appreciation, and the dancers applauded warmly. Then Heero stepped forward and took Quatre's hand, pulling him out to the middle of the floor. He smiled mischievously and led the blond around in a simple waltz as the band began to play once more.

There was more applause and laughter as the others joined them on the dance floor. It was a memorable evening, full of gaiety and joy. Quatre danced once with Hiromi, while Heero spun about with Mariemeia, much to the little girl's delight. She was wearing one of her pretty new dresses, and the blond noticed as he took his turn with her that she had become more open and animated since their first meeting. Much of the credit for that went to Cathy.

There were only two things that took some of the pleasure out of the evening. One was the flash of anger and hatred in Dorothy Une's eyes when she looked at Quatre dancing again with Heero; the other was the sadness and dejection in Zechs'.

The blond mentioned this to Heero, who frowned darkly, making the blond almost wish he had not said anything. The darker man was becoming suspicious of everyone and everything since the night of the fire. Sometimes he looked as though he wanted to suspect even Wufei, who was naught but loyalty itself to his master.

Quatre was pleased to see Relena and her mother. Relena was on the arm of a young man whom she proudly explained was a lawyer. The blond had a feeling that something might come of their relationship, and he said so teasingly as he spun her around on the dance floor. He knew Relena was not the kind of girl to be content in a small mountain town forever.

After dinner and more dancing, it came time for the unveiling of Zechs' painting. They had heard the rush of wind outside the castle all evening, and now thunder rumbled threateningly in the distance. Many people were anxious to be on their way home, lest they be caught traveling in a storm in the middle of the night.

"Years ago," Zechs announced, "I painted a portrait of the beautiful Leia Khushrenada. And now, in the same season, I have painted one of her son, Quatre Raberba." With great aplomb he whisked the cover from the portrait.

There were loud gasps all around the room, then silence as the guests gazed with shock at the picture. Quatre turned, feeling as though he were in a dream, to see why everyone was behaving so strangely.

The picture was very similar to the one Zechs had done of Quatre's mother. The sky behind the vineyard was dark and stormy, with great streaks of lightning reaching toward the earth. He had painted Quatre in lighter, airier tones, but he still stood out boldly, standing in the midst of the vines with one hand stretched upward as though to catch the lightning.

But the face… it had been slashed away until nothing of his features could be identified. The canvas hung in strips and from the slashes ran long, jagged rivulets of red that glittered wetly now beneath the candlelit chandeliers.

"_Mon dieu_," Zechs whispered, as shocked as any of them. He held the canvas cover limply in his hand and stared at his ruined portrait, his mouth moving silently as though unable to believe the atrocity done to the result of his hard work.

Everyone in the room had begun to murmur, and they turned to one another with speculation.

Heero ripped the cover from Zechs' hand and threw it back over the canvas. His jaw clenched dangerously as he stood only inches from Zechs.

Quatre immediately moved between them, spreading his arms out from his sides as though he could keep the darker man at bay. "Don't, Heero," he whispered, aware of everyone's looks. "I-it doesn't matter. It's only someone's idea of a prank."

"A prank?" Heero hissed, and his fury was shocking. "You call this a prank? It's sick, Quatre! And if I have to rip this castle apart, I intend to find out exactly who did this and why."

Treize stepped forward, placing a warning hand on Heero's shoulder. "I'm sorry the evening had to end on such a disquieting note," he said to the guests. "But I believe the dance is finished. Good night, my friends."


	30. Chapter Thirty

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Thirty**

"Get out of my sight," Heero growled to Zechs. He watched angrily as the older man took the painting and left the room. After Zechs had gone, Heero muttered darkly, "If I find out he's done this, so help me, I'll…"

"Son, please," Hiromi spoke up. "We must wait until we find out for certain who ruined the portrait."

Heero took Quatre's hand, pulling the blond with him as he marched fumingly out of the ballroom. They walked through the hallways in silence, and Quatre could feel the anger rolling off of Heero.

Once inside Quatre's room, he pulled the blond close and kissed him hungrily, his fury melting into fear and desperation. Turning them around, he pushed the blond back against the wall. His mouth left Quatre's, and the blond sucked in a sharp hiss of breath as he felt Heero's body line up against his own, Heero's mouth now busily nibbling along the side of his throat. "W-why are you so afraid?" He panted.

"Because I can't lose you," Heero growled passionately, pushing Quatre's suit jacket from his shoulder so that Heero's teeth could more easily get to the cove of the blond's neck. "Don't you know how much I love you? Don't you know I would _die_ if anything happened to you? My life was so staid and meaningless before you came along. You make me feel things I never thought I'd feel. I love you, gypsy, love you…"

The words rang in Quatre's ears. He stared at the ceiling as their echo resonated, finally sewing together the hole in his heart, and his eyes stung wetly.

Feeling his sudden lack of response, Heero lifted his head, dark blue eyes widening when he saw the tears in Quatre's. "What is it?" He whispered, gently thumbing the tears away. "Don't you believe me?"

Quatre bit at his lip, reaching out and fisting the lapels of Heero's jacket, pulling himself forth into Heero's embrace. The darker man's strong arms wrapped tightly around him, and he felt Heero lightly kiss his hair. "I'm going to take you away from here," he heard Heero murmur. "Somewhere where you will be safe. There's something wrong here, _kawaii_, I don't know what. But until we find out, I'm not taking any chances with your safety."

"All right," the blond whispered.

"What?" Heero laughed softly. "No objections, no fighting?"

"None," he shook his head against the darker man's chest. "And I won't fight you anymore."

"Well," Heero drawled. "Don't be too sure about that part. We both have a temper, and there's that stubbornness of yours… I'm afraid our future will have its share of fighting."

"And making up," Quatre added, looking up with a small smile.

Heero cradled his jaw and kissed him again, long and slow, before releasing him and reluctantly stepping away. "I'm going downstairs; I'll need to make a few arrangements. One more night here, I swear, and then everything will be behind us. Lock the door and wait for me."

"I will."

After he had gone, Quatre knew he would never get to sleep. His body still sang where Heero had touched him; goose bumps tingled along the side of his neck where those teeth had nibbled at him. So he swiftly changed out of his fine suit and into a comfortable set of cotton clothes instead. He was sitting in a chair and reading as he waited, when a sudden knock at his door surprised him.

"Zechs!"

The older blond stood there in the hallway, his silvery eyes sad and remorseful. "I have come to apologize, cherub, about what happened tonight. I could not rest until I spoke to you about it."

Quatre immediately relaxed. This man was his friend, of course he would not be a danger. "Thank you, Zechs. And I'm not angry with you; I know you didn't have anything to do with what happened. Heero was only looking out for me, that's all."

"So it is love, then," he murmured, with a slow nod. "I thought it might be." Then he straightened and drew a deep breath. "Actually, I suppose that is why Heero sent me here, although I did not know at the time. He is in the library, and asked me to bring you down to him."

Quatre smiled, stepping into the hallway and closing the door. He followed Zechs along the corridor, wondering what arrangements Heero had managed to put together in so short a time.

It was very late; everyone in the castle was asleep by then, despite the storm that was raging around them. Zechs said nothing as they hurried along the dark hallways toward the library. When he opened the door, Quatre glanced quickly about the dark, shadowy space. But Heero was not there. Instead, the bookshelves which hid the secret door stood open. The blond glanced first at it, then turned questioningly to Zechs.

"Oh," the older blond shrugged with a soft chuckle. "It is all right, cherub. Heero is inside."

But suddenly Quatre knew. He knew Heero was not there, and that Zechs had lied deliberately to get him alone. Zechs grabbed for his arm, but Quatre backed out of reach. Something about the way the older blond was looking at him made Zechs suddenly an entirely different person.

Quatre started to panic. He might've had a mean right hook in a good temper, but he knew very little about defending himself from an actual threat. He tried to run, but Zechs proved much quicker than he would have thought, grabbing him from behind and pulling him toward the empty room behind the hidden panel.

In the midst of struggle, Quatre's ring slipped from his finger and fell with a _ping, ping_ to the floor. He froze, watching it roll out of sight beneath a table, and Zechs used his distraction to overpower him and shove him roughly into the room.

"Let me go," Quatre said, trying again to wrench himself from the older blond's hold. "Why are you doing this?"

"I am doing nothing," Zechs answered, his voice thick and cold. "I am simply taking you away where I can talk to you alone."

"It was you," he abruptly realized. "You _did_ destroy the painting, didn't you? _You_ killed Duo!"

The older blond's hands tightened painfully around his arms, putting a stop to Quatre's struggling. "Yes, damn you! You left me no option. Tempting me with your angelic looks, when all the while your choice had already been made."

"You're insane," Quatre breathed.

He laughed then, a loud booming laugh nothing like the amused chuckles he had used to give. "Perhaps I am. I prefer to think I am only misunderstood." He suddenly threw Quatre against a wall of the small, narrow room, lighting a lantern and lifting it high. In his other hand was something else, something metallic - a pistol. It was pointed straight at Quatre's heart.

"Zechs, d-don't…"

"Why do you look at me like that, cherub? I would never hurt you. But you must come with me. There are things I need to tell you, and something I must show you."

Quatre swallowed, nodding. He fought desperately to remember what Mariemeia had said about the tunnel and where it led. Perhaps if waited this out… there could be a moment when Zechs was off his guard, and then Quatre could run…

The older blond opened another door, a large one of heavy stone that scraped harshly as he opened it. Then they were in a narrow, stone-lined passageway just wide enough to walk side by side. He shoved the lantern into Quatre's hand, grabbing the younger blond's arm once again, the pistol held steadfastly in his other hand. They walked for what seemed like hours, turning and twisting through doors and locked chambers until Quatre realized with a start that he no longer knew which direction they were going.

And at Zechs' cool, smug look, he knew that was exactly what the Frenchman had intended.

Quatre paused, slowly leaning to the side until his shoulder fell against the cold stone wall. "Can we stop? My legs feel like lead."

"Of course," Zechs said, watching him carefully. "But only for a moment."

He slumped to the floor, letting his legs stretch out before him. He was exhausted, and starting to lose hope. He still could not think of a way to get free. "Where are you taking me?"

"I told you, I am taking you to see something. We are almost there." The older blond looked at him as though Quatre's tiredness irritated him. He was different now. Gone was the quiet grace of the European nobleman. In his place was a frenzied madman Quatre could not identify.

"Why are you doing this? I thought you and I were friends."

"_Friends?_" He sneered. "Friends? I do not want to be your friend, Leia. I told you that. I want to be your lover, I want to take you away from here, away from your husband and his mistress. Why will you not let me? Why can you not see it is for you that I am doing this?" His hands, white and trembling in the lamplight, reached out imploringly toward Quatre.

The younger blond cringed away, pressing closer against the wall behind him. "I'm not Leia, Zechs. I'm Quatre Raberba."

The other man looked at him oddly for a long minute, then shook his head. "Of course you are, cherub. I seem to have gotten confused. You look so much like her. But Leia was much sweeter, much more pliable than you are. That is why it has taken me so long to get you here. You are far more self-assured than she was, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't," Quatre played along, wanting to keep the man talking. "Tell me about her. You never did tell me about your… about your friendship."

"Never?" He asked, sliding to the floor against the opposite wall. His silver eyes lit now with enthusiasm. "I loved her so much. She was the most beautiful woman I had ever seen. She reminded me of the nurse at the sanitarium in the Alps. All that passion, so sensuous beneath her façade of respectability. I like that; I have always liked that. But your mother would not listen to me, she would not believe what I told her about your father and Hiromi. Poor Hiromi, I was able to use her so easily.

"Of course, Dorothy helped; all she wanted was to see her cousin as mistress of Rosemont. Hiromi was in love with Treize, almost from the first day of her arrival. So when Leia asked her, she could deny her love with her words, but never with her eyes. So honorable… always so honorable and so easily used."

"Did you start the rumors, then… about Hiromi and my father?"

"Yes," he said brightly. "Oh, yes. I had an ally in Dorothy, although she had no idea why I was doing it. She is a stupid woman who can see only as far as the end of her nose. She served her own purpose and I served mine. Clever, no? I drove a wedge right between Leia and her poor husband, and neither of them could figure it out. I even managed to involve their friend Rasid - poor, noble Rasid." He laughed then, the sound bouncing off the walls.

"But it still didn't work. You weren't able to make her fall in love with you."

"Do not say that!" Zechs shouted angrily. "She loved me! She was afraid to admit it, just as you are. But soon… soon you will. You will not resist me as long as she did, will you, Quatre Raberba? You would not die before admitting your love for me, would you?"

"Die?" Quatre asked, a chill running through his body and straight to his heart. "D-did… did _you_ kill her?"

"I did not kill her! I only left her alone for a little while. I told her after she had had time to think about it, she would admit she loved me. But when I came back…" He let out a small sound, dropping his face into his hands. "She was dead. Oh, she was dead…"

Seeing his opportunity, Quatre grabbed the lantern and jumped up from the floor. He ran down the long corridor, not caring that he didn't know where it led or whether he could get out.

He could hear Zechs behind him, the other man's footsteps heavy as he stumbled in the darkness. Suddenly the corridor ended, as it had at many other turns. Quatre quickly pushed at each wall, searching for a handle or a switch of some kind.

The wall opened. He was in a room, one larger than any of the others. He could hear the scurry of rats and smell the damp mustiness, could feel the cool, damp air on his face. But he could see no other doorway, no lights of any kind.

He was trapped again.

He lifted the lantern high above his head, and the light fell upon something in the far corner. Chains, heavy black chains, hung from shackled in the stone walls. Quatre flinched back as the light fell upon lifeless bones still held up against the wall by the chains. Hands, only bones now, the flesh disintegrated by the years. Upward the light moved. Skeletal arms, still encased in a dress once bright and beautiful, but now thin and crumbling like paper. A small mass of tawny hair upon a skull, now sightless and empty. And then he saw it.

_His mother's talisman… the one Treize had designed as a set along with Quatre's ring… hung around the skeleton's neck._

Quatre heard Zechs' laughter behind him, and as he turned around something struck his head.

Then everything went dark.


	31. Chapter Thirty-One

**Title:** The Devil Has Blue Eyes

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Gundam Wing

**Genre:** Yaoi (with some Het thrown in)

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Contraband; Fusion; Language; Death; Murder.

**Pairing(s):** Heero/Quatre (constant mentionings of Het pairings)

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** (I'm afraid my usual Disclaimer will not be enough this time, so bear with me.) I, Aina Song, hereby acknowledge the illegality of the following fusion fiction, which is based very thickly upon Clara Wimberly's _The Jeweled Heart of Rosemont Castle_. I do not claim any rights or privileges her book may have earned her, nor do I claim credit for the book itself. This fanfiction follows her plot almost to the letter, with few changes tossed in here and there, but I must again press that it does so _without_ the explicit permission of Ms. Wimberly, her editor(s), or her publisher(s). This fiction was not written for money; I do not profit from this in any way, shape, or form. Please excuse the illegality of it all, and I do hope my own readers will try to look past my unlawfulness and enjoy the fiction nonetheless. Thank you.

**Teaser:** He did not care that he was the lost heir to a winery fortune - especially since he couldn't remember that earliest piece of his childhood. He only wanted to reclaim the family that had been kept from him. But there was another who was determined to unmask him as an imposter. And, at the same time, a strange cold presence stirred again at his return, anxious to finish what it had started so long ago…

**Chapter Thirty-One**

He woke to the feel of cold, smooth stones beneath him. He was being dragged, and even though he had not opened his eyes he could tell that the room was dimly lit. A cloth gag was in his mouth.

He heard Zechs' voice, then; he was crying. "Do not die," he whispered. "Please. I will not chain you the way I did her - but I cannot let you go, either. You see that, do you not? I cannot let you go back to Heero. I _will_ not."

Quatre feigned sleep. He had no idea where Zechs had taken him, but he knew they were still below the castle, somewhere in the winding maze of passageways.

"I will come back soon, cherub. I will bring you some wine and something to eat. You rest now, and think about what I have said. I want only to love you, Quatre Raberba." Then he left, bolting the door behind him.

When Quatre opened his eyes, he found himself in another room. He didn't know if it was night or day, could not even tell if the storm still raged in the skies above the castle. He breathed as evenly as he could through the gag, trying to stay calm so that he could think.

He remembered the day Mariemeia had become lost, and how her cries had echoed throughout the castle. He needed to make some noise, noise enough to carry beyond these dark tunnels.

The lamp Zechs had left sat on a small wooden footstool. Quatre was bound so tightly that he couldn't stand, so he scooted toward the stool and with his feet caught the wire handle of the lantern. He lifted it carefully and placed it on the floor. His heart raced out of control at the risk of dropping the lantern and being trapped in a burning room again. The thought of the night in the tower still haunted him.

Once the lantern was safely on the floor, he managed to pick up the small stool with his feet. He moved away from the danger of the lamp and lifted the stool into the air, banging it repeatedly on the floor, hard, until it finally broke apart with a loud clatter and could be of no more help. Then he filled his lungs with as much air as he could manage and shouted for help until his throat was hoarse. Afterward, he fell back to the floor, exhausted.

~o~

He couldn't guess how long it was before Zechs came back. The older blond looked at him for a moment, then took the broken pieces which were all that was left of the stool and moved them outside the door. A tiny spark of triumph lit within Quatre's chest; he knew that meant Zechs had heard his noises somewhere in the castle.

Zechs had brought food and wine, just as he'd promised. Quatre refused them both. He knew it was likely foolish and stupid to do so, but he did not put it pass the other man to drug them somehow.

"I can see you are not ready to declare your love just yet," Zechs sighed, and there was anger in his silvery eyes. "It would take so little to save yourself. But you cannot even do that, can you?"

He lurched to his feet. "How would you feel if your lover died?" He shouted. "Would that finally convince you?"

Quatre did not fall for such a weak threat. He had seen Heero's strength for himself, and he suspected that Heero's man Lowe and even Wufei were soldiers of a sort. The blond glared defiantly at Zechs, confident in Heero's safety.

His failure to rise to the bait infuriated Zechs, who struck him hard across the side of his face. Quatre fell back against the floor, pain and dizziness blurring his vision.

"The brash insolence of the young," the Frenchman sneered, spitting to the floor near Quatre's face. "Do not think I would not kill us both before ever letting another have you."

He left again, and bolted the door.

Quatre lost track of time after that. Minutes, hours… he could have been there for days, and wouldn't have been able to tell. He slept and woke, slowly succumbing to disorientation. He thought of Heero a thousand times, and in his mind told the darker man over and over how much he loved and believed in him. Quatre was going to die in that cold dungeon, and in some far, dark corner of his mind he knew that. But Heero was safe and protected by those loyal to him. The blond clung to that one last sane reassurance as the rest of his world began to dissolve around him.

Once, Quatre thought he could hear someone calling his name - but, fearing it was Zechs, bit his teeth into the gag and refrained from calling out.

But then he felt something that warmed his heart, if not his frozen body. His mother's presence, strong and vital, hovering in the sweet undeniable fragrance of orange blossoms. He decided then that he really was dying, and that the presence he sensed was Leia Khushrenada, welcoming her son into the hereafter.

~o~

"Quatre Raberba…" a voice somewhere in the distance called to him. "I love you. Come back to me; please, come back to me."

"H-Heero?"

"Yes, _kawaii_… yes, it's me. Can you hear me?"

He was dreaming again. He dreamed he was in Heero's arms. And even though he couldn't answer, Quatre moved against him, wanting to feel his strong warmth one more time. But it was a dream… a vivid, unreachable dream.

Quatre opened his eyes. He was no longer cold, but he still felt weakened with exhaustion, and his body was now shaking uncontrollably. Then he realized the room was brightly lit, the surface beneath him not hard and damp, but soft.

"Hello, gypsy."

He turned his head, his gaze finding and locking on the dark blue eyes of the man he thought he'd never see again. "Heero…? B-but… I'm only dreaming again, aren't I?"

The darker man bent slowly and kissed him. Heero's warmth spread quickly through him, and Quatre reached up to twine the fingers of his hand in the other's thick strands. Heero obeyed his silent request, driving his tongue forth and deepening the kiss before finally pulling away.

"Does that feel like a dream?" He asked, huskily.

Quatre's eyes stung wetly, and his fisted Heero's shirt, pulling himself closer. Heero caged the blond in his arms, cradling Quatre tightly against his chest, letting him grieve for what had been done to him.

"W-where is he?" Quatre finally asked when he was calm enough to talk.

"Zechs is dead, _kawaii_. We found him hanging in the carriage house."

"Then how… how did you find me?"

"You'd sworn I would never lose you, remember? So when you disappeared without a word, I knew something was wrong. Then, when Zechs tried to convince me you had run away, just like Leia, I began to suspect him. I never stopped looking for you, _kawaii_, and then you so very cleverly left me my first clue." He shifted on the bed, reaching into a pocket of his finely tailored trousers, and brought something out in his fist. He lifted it up and opened his palm; it was Quatre's signet ring.

"It had rolled into a far corner of the library. I'd only just found it, when I next heard a constant crashing noise and your voice shouting throughout the castle." He took Quatre's right hand, slipping the ring down to the knuckle of his index finger. "It was Mariemeia who reminded me of the secret passageways. She helped a great deal by showing us the entryway in the carriage house. I think it was then that Zechs knew it was hopeless."

Suddenly Quatre remembered - the room with the chains and shackles, the glittering silver talisman… He tensed in Heero's arms, the memory flashing clearly in his mind's eye, and he buried his face again into the darker man's chest as the pain stabbed once more through his chest.

He felt Heero kiss his hair, and the darker man whispered, "What is it?"

"L-Leia," he choked. "God, how can I tell Treize what became of her? It'll kill him to know…"

"But he does already, _kawaii_." Heero's hands drew back just enough to smooth up and down along Quatre's arms. "Once we began searching the passageways below the castle, Zechs gave up. That was when we found him. He had left a letter explaining everything. He rambled about things we couldn't understand, but he did tell us where Leia was. We found her, gypsy, and put her to rest at last. The worst is over now - for you, and for your father."

Quatre looked up, "Is he all right?"

Heero sighed but nodded. "He is. I think finally he is all right. He is able to grieve for Leia at last, knowing she did not leave him as he'd always thought. Finally knowing that, he can put it behind him."

"I'm sorry, Heero," the blond murmured, biting his lip. "I know you told me to wait for you. But I never thought that Zechs…"

"None of us did," he said. "We discovered that he had been in an institute in the Alps before coming here. It seems he killed a nurse and escaped from the country. The authorities had been looking for him for months."

"He threatened to kill you, too."

"Did he?" Heero's tone was not angry, and the glint in his dark blue eyes was haughtily amused.

Quatre gave a small, weakened smile. "I called his bluff. I knew it would've taken more than one man to take you down."

"You're wrong," the darker man whispered, carefully rolling them on the bed until he hovered over Quatre. "I can think of exactly one man against whom I never stood a chance of winning." And then he kissed the blond, fierce and wild, and Quatre never doubted again.

**THE END**


End file.
